


as I lay sleeping

by saltandlimes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams, Loki Posing as Odin, Loki has too many feelings for his own good, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Thor: The Dark World, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism, background Loki/Grandmaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13454667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: Loki can't count the number of times Frigga repeated the rhyme to him:scrying is spying, as everyone knows. Those who scry without need will make many foesIn which Loki tries to distract himself by posing as Odin on Asgard. No matter what he does, though, he can’t get Thor out of his mind, and he can't seem to stay out of Thor's dreams.Thor roams across the galaxy. He couldn’t save Loki, so now he tries to forget the feel of Loki’s skin from his dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was watching The Dark World again and suddenly I wondered, what in the world is Loki doing all those years when he is pretending to be Odin?
> 
> Thus, this fic was born. Because if there's one thing Loki is certainly doing, it's spying on Thor.

Loki pads across the room on bare feet. It’s dark, the only light coming from a single window set high in one wall. The window spills silver light in a square on the floor, bathing the rest of the room in shadows and dim shapes. The bed is a dark mass against one wall, and Loki creeps towards it as quietly as he can. 

Thor’s calm breathing fills the room up, soft, steady, the only other sounds the hum of machinery and the steady hiss of the heating system. It’s as warm as Asgard’s early summer inside, and Thor sleeps under a thin blanket. Loki shakes his head. He remembers Thor’s room in the palace, always piled high with furs and covers. He’d teased Thor about it as a child, asking him if the thunder god missed the heat of his lighting, wondering if he could survive a cold rain. Now, though, Thor looks comfortable, even in the dark, stretched on his side. 

Loki slides the covers up, watching to see if Thor stirs. Thor’s slow breathing doesn’t even hitch. Loki smiles to himself, satisfied, then flicks his fingers. Seidr washes over Thor, soothing him, letting him dream. The green glow dissolves into Thor’s skin and they are left in the dark once again. Loki sits down on the edge of the bed, and another gesture dresses him in sleeping clothes, rather than leather and rich fabric. Thor moans softly, curling up a little on the bed next to him. 

Loki muffles a chuckle. Then he lies down on the bed, settling in next to Thor, letting himself slide towards Thor in the center of the bed. Thor huffs a breath against the back of Loki's neck, still asleep, still breathing softly. Loki shivers. Then one of Thor’s huge arms finds its way around his waist. He freezes, but Thor doesn’t wake. Instead, he pulls Loki against himself, cradling Loki to his chest. Loki tries to relax. This is why he’s here, after all. 

He’s been watching Thor for weeks. The first time he’d looked across the realms to Midgard, scrying from his rooms, Thor had been pacing. Loki had grinned as he watched. Thor’s footsteps were heavy on the floor, and Loki could almost feel them reverberate, even there alone, worlds away on Asgard. Thor’s fists were clenched at his sides, his cape fluttering behind him. It was almost funny, to watch Thor stalking about in this place, a shining beacon in the dark tower that rears from the petty human city. 

Thor had stopped in one corner of his room, slamming his fist down onto the top of the desk. The sound had reverberated around Loki’s chambers - Odin’s chambers - and made Loki shiver. Thor was a beast hidden away in a small room, trying to contain himself around his human friends. It was delightful, and Loki had laughed as he waved a hand to dispel the vision. 

The next time, Thor was asleep. Loki had sighed, stalking across his room and letting Odin’s face fall away from his own. He had slumped against a wall, watching as Thor rolled over. Thor was alone, his hair splayed around himself and his sheets rumpled.

Loki watched for long minutes that time, the only sound in either of their rooms that of Thor’s slow breathing filtered across the wide expanse of space. Thor had breathed deeply, and Loki had taken a single slow breath himself. 

After endless days spent on Odin’s throne, there was an odd peace to his scrying. Loki had let himself start to breathe in time with Thor. He had sunken into a strange calm, settling against the wall, sliding down until his knees were drawn up to his chest. He had fallen asleep like that, watching Thor from across the universe, breathing in time with the sound of his brother’s slow sleep. 

The third time, the woman, Jane, had been there. She and Thor had both been asleep, Thor’s hair still damp with sweat, dark and lank as it fell about his cheeks in tangled curls. He and she hadn’t touched on the bed, curled on their separate sides, as though the strength of their coupling had pushed them apart. 

Loki had bitten his lip hard, slamming his fist into the wall next to the mirror he uses to scry. He hadn’t looked away, though. Instead, he’d stared at Thor, trying to keep the woman out of his view, trying to focus only on Thor’s breathing, on the slow, steady rush of sound. He’d lain down on his bed, curled up on one side so he could see Thor, could pretend that Thor was not lying next to the woman who had brought about their mother’s death. 

Every time Loki caught sight of Jane, though, he’d been jarred out of the lull of Thor’s breathing. He’d been jolted awake each time. Eventually, Loki had canceled the scrying spell with a wave of his hand, his fingers trembling as he’d brought them back to curl about the thin blanket on his bed. 

Loki hasn’t slept through the night since then. 

So now he’s here, curled up against Thor’s side, in the fortress of Midgard’s most formidable warriors. He’d crept in on silent feet, wreathing the cameras in seidr and cloaking his scent and sound from the prying eyes of Stark’s machines. It had been simple work to find Thor’s rooms, and even easier to slip inside without waking his brother. The suite is almost bare, with just a few books lying about, and Loki had paused in the outer room, looking around. 

There were no heavy furs from beasts Thor has defeated. There were no golden chalices that befit a prince, no precious weapons. There were no tapestries hanging on the walls, telling the stories of Thor’s victories. Instead, there was simply a painting on one wall. 

It was flat to the eye, and Loki had realized that it is made of something other than paint, despite the brush strokes that he could clearly see on the canvas. He had spent a moment wondering about Midgard’s art before he had truly taken in the subject of the work. 

It was Thor, of course. He was poised on the tip of one toe, in the moment just before flight. His hammer was raised above his head, whirling so fast that the artist had rendered it nothing more than a blur of line and color. Thor’s cape fluttered out behind him, the red dulled till it was almost the color of blood. Behind Thor, a storm raged in the sky. Blue-grey clouds blended into a hellscape of broken trees and shattered buildings, and lightning gathered high above the ground, ready to meet its master. Around Thor, the grass was flattened, matted down by the heavy tread of feet that the artist had somehow rendered nimble as they arched beneath Thor's bulk, ready to leave the ground. 

Loki had paused, though, not because of the darkness of the painting - as strange as it was in something that seemed to glorify his golden brother - but because of the expression on Thor’s face. Thor’s hair streamed out behind him, and his eyes gleamed with caged fire. He looked wild, free, a force of nature reveling in its own destructive power. He seemed, for once, truly the personification of the storm. Looking at the joy on his face, it felt as Loki looked into the face of the brother he’d dreamed he’d have some day. Ruthless, powerful, yet cunning. A destructive force just barely chained to hard-won control. Loki had stood there, staring, enthralled by the vision of an artist who had somehow looked at Thor and seen what Loki has always wanted to see. 

When Loki had finally pulled away from the painting, he had his mind made up. Whoever the painter was, they had seen the very thing that Loki has been searching for. The wild abandon than Loki was afraid Thor had lost on Midgard. The fierceness, the power, the wildness of the storm, they are all still somewhere inside Thor, locked up but ready to be released. It was that assurance that pushed Loki the rest of the way into Thor’s bedchamber.

And now Loki curls against Thor, cradled in Thor’s arms. He lets his breathing calm. Seidr will keep Thor asleep until Loki can slip from his bed and make his secret way back to Asgard. It will calm Thor, soothe him just as his presence calms Loki. 

It is almost laughable, how Loki’s body relaxes into the bed, how his muscles go liquid and his eyes can’t seem to stay open. If he didn’t know better, he would be worried about a spell, a curse. But even Loki is more self aware than that. He can admit it now, after cheating death a second time. Cradled here, in the eye of the storm, is the only place he feels safe. It is the only place that he knows an attack will not come on sight, should his seidr fail. And so he will seize this with both hands, and take, and take, because it is all he can do. 

***

Loki cannot go to Thor every night. Often times, his duties as Odin leave him aching and tired at the end of the day, or keep him awake later than he would like. Sometimes, the woman is there in Thor's chambers, her dark hair splayed across Thor’s pillows, her fingers tangled with his. It is not as often as Loki would have expected, not with what he remembers of Thor’s appetites from when they were younger. Yet it is more frequent than Loki would like. 

Sometimes Loki holds himself away. He goes days without looking across the realms to find Thor, keeping himself back from his scrying mirror. Loki tries to test himself, asking himself if he can spend one more night away, one more hour. It is hard, though, when he knows that when he looks in on Thor he will be able to sleep as he hasn’t slept since he fell from the Bifrost. He will be able to let himself relax as he hasn’t in years. 

And so he always comes back, slipping into Thor’s rooms and then into his bed. Sometimes Thor stirs, muttering Loki’s name. Loki always bites his lip when Thor whispers to him, wondering if this will be the night that Thor wakes, and Loki has to let himself vanish, has to let himself fade away as nothing more than a dream-phantom. Thor never does, though. Instead, he rolls over, pulling Loki close and burying his face in Loki’s hair. 

It’s late one night when something else happens. Loki spent the day in endless council meetings, trying to convince the minsters and warleaders that Asgard should pull back from its involvement in other realms and should preserve its own peace and leave others to their lives. He is making progress, but there are still a few who seem to lust for conflict and war far beyond what Loki wishes. He made his way across the realms as soon as he can after the meeting, taking secret paths that none could see, slipping into the tower where Thor sleeps on silent feet. 

Now he stands above Thor’s bed, naked except for thin shorts to sleep in. Loki found, after that first night, that Thor is too warm for him to wear anything more. Thor is naked from the waist up as well, flat on his back in the bed, his arm flung out across the mattress. Loki runs a cold finger across Thor’s wrist, drawing lines on his skin that mirror the veins pulsing just below. 

It would be so easy to hurt Thor like this, to rid the universe of his power and the threat he holds to Loki. Loki sighs softly, and Thor stirs, rolling to one side. He cannot do that. He cannot take away the one person who can shield him if he is ever discovered in Asgard. It would be foolish, irresponsible. His stomach twists at the thought, his hands shaking where he has wrapped his arms around himself. 

Loki shakes his head, lowering himself to the bed. He lies down on his back, Thor curled next to him, and sends seidr washing over them, sealing them to this dreamstate until Loki chooses to remove the spell. It will not keep Thor asleep, but it will help him believe anything he sees here is a dream, mere illusion. It will give Loki enough time to slip away if Thor wakes. 

The bed is soft, and Loki’s eyes slip closed faster than he is used to. He hovers on the edge of sleep himself. He feels his body falling away, his thighs and his belly melting into the mattress and his shoulders unknotting as one of Thor’s hands finds its way across his chest and settles with fingers brushing his collarbone. Loki breathes deeply, letting his beating heart slow in his chest until there is nothing more than warmth and calm about him. 

The first press of Thor’s lips against his has Loki bolting awake. The calm about him shatters, and his stomach and biceps tense in quick jerks. His eyes fly open. Thor has rolled until he is half on top of Loki, his face so close to Loki’s that it fills Loki’s vision. 

Thor’s eyes are still closed. 

His breathing is not as slow as it usually is in sleep, but a single glance at the weaving of his spell tells Loki that Thor is still asleep, or half asleep. He is awake enough that he mutters Loki’s name, pressing their foreheads together. Loki shudders. Thor’s breath is hot against his mouth, little pants, little breaths. Thor’s hand clenches on his chest. 

“Thor?” he whispers. 

“Loki… missed you,” Thor mutters. 

His lips find Loki’s again. They are soft, just barely pressing against Loki’s. Loki holds himself frozen underneath Thor, his hands trembling and his heart racing in his chest. Thor nuzzles against his neck, his sleep-mussed hair falling across Loki’s face. Then he finds Loki’s mouth again. This time, Loki lets his lips part under Thor’s. 

They’ve never done this before. He has never felt Thor suck on his bottom lip, felt the way that Thor licks lazily at his mouth. Even so, Loki’s heart stops racing and his muscles loosen as Thor kisses him. He lets himself focus on the taste of Thor’s lips. It’s sleep and mint and something that Loki knows is how Thor himself tastes. He presses closer to Thor, trying to get more of it. He needs to take apart its different notes, pick at the scent and the smell of his brother until he understands just what it is about it that has set heat roiling in his belly and made him bite back a moan. 

Thor pulls away, though, just far enough to dislodge his lips from Loki’s. He buries his face in Loki’s neck, kissing the hollow spot where Loki’s shoulder and collarbone meet. Loki does moan this time, soft and almost stifled, yet undeniable.

“Good…” Thor mumbles. “Loki… Stay with me. Sleep here. ” 

Loki lets his head fall back onto the pillow, baring his shoulder and neck completely. He can feel Thor smile against them, and Thor’s arm wraps more tightly around his chest. Thor doesn’t look for another kiss, thought, and the heat in Loki’s belly slowly fades to a comforting warmth. Loki sighs as Thor’s breathing evens out, and he sinks back into true sleep. 

“Of course I’ll stay,” Loki whispers, then drifts off himself. 

***

Loki’s lips become accustomed to Thor’s touch. Slackened with sleep, Thor’s mouth is soft and pliant, searching out Loki’s at night with unerring accuracy. It becomes almost ritual. Loki slips into Thor’s bed when Thor is asleep, and Thor wakes just enough to roll towards him and seal their mouths together. 

Loki’s body grows used to Thor’s hands. Thor strokes his sides each night, his fingers finding Loki’s hips and his palms cupping around Loki’s waist. At first Loki trembles when Thor touches him, unable to relax. But slowly, he settles into the rhythm of the nights, his own hands finding Thor’s chest and his palms flattening against Thor’s skin. 

It is early one morning when things change once more. Loki is fast asleep when a flicker of seidr bouncing through his mind awakens him. His eyes flicker open to the faint light of dawn filtering through Thor’s one window. 

He is cradled in Thor’s arms, nuzzled into the space just underneath Thor’s chin. They fit together well like this, their legs tangled together and Thor’s chest pillowing him. At first, Loki can’t understand why his spells have woken him. There is no one else in the room, no one to disturb their sleep or to find Loki curled here, in the heart of the Avengers’ prized tower. Loki’s eyes start to slip shut, and he nuzzles back against Thor’s neck. It is merely a mistake, a glitch. 

Thor moans. 

It’s soft, no more than a whimper, but it is enough to have Loki’s eyes flying open again. He pulls back just enough to see that Thor’s own eyes are still sealed shut. His breathing, though, is no longer the slow rhythm of sleep, but rather a hitching series of small gasps. Loki starts to pull back further, but Thor clutches him. 

“Not yet,” Thor whispers, his voice sleep-rough and stuttering. “Five more minutes.”

Loki almost laughs. Thor is not awake yet, is still half in dream-land. He slumps back against Thor’s chest, one hand going to Thor’s hair. It is silky smooth beneath his fingers, and Loki strokes a few errant strands away from Thor’s forehead. 

“Alright,” he whispers. “Just a few more minutes.”

Thor smiles, his own hand creeping up Loki’s back to cup the back of Loki’s neck. He pulls Loki in, his eyes still closed, and his mouth finds Loki’s cheek. Thor huffs a breath out, and then his lips slide down to press against Loki’s own. 

This kiss is nothing like those in the dead of night. Now, Thor seems driven, sucking hard on Loki’s bottom lip, then licking against Loki’s mouth enough that Loki lets his lips part. Thor is inside him in an instant, his tongue caressing Loki’s with sure, slow movements. Loki’s own breathing speeds up suddenly. He shivers, sparks running through his veins and his back arching before he can calm himself. 

Thor pulls away enough to nuzzle against Loki’s neck, kissing the sensitive spot where Loki’s jaw meets his throat, and Loki whines. The sound tears itself from his chest, welling up to make its way into the still air of the bedchamber. 

Thor’s eyes flicker open.

“Loki?” he gasps. 

His fingers tighten on Loki’s hips, but Loki has just enough presence of mind to twitch his fingers and set off a long planned cantrip. He slides, invisible, off the bed. Thor’s hands fall through the illusion of his body, and Loki’s form vanishes from the bed. Then he slips towards the door, hiding in the shadows. 

On the bed, Thor falls back. His eyes are wide open now, glassy and staring. As Loki watches, a single tear rolls down Thor’s cheek. Thor wipes it away, his hand moving jerkily. Then he presses his palm flat to the place where Loki vanished. 

“Why…” Thor mutters. “Why are you always gone when I wake? Why do these dreams continue to torment me.” His voice breaks, his fist squeezing tight on the sheets. “Why did you have to die?”

Loki slips away, the sound of Thor’s broken questions still loud in his ears even as he makes his careful way back to Asgard and takes up his mantle as the Allfather once again.

***

Loki stays away for a few days after that. Thor’s haunted gaze greet him each time he thinks of returning to Midgard, Thor's fist clenching on his sheets and tears gathering in his eyes. Thor needs time to decide that Loki was just a dream, needs time to long for the dream to return. He needs time to start wanting Loki again. 

The third night after Thor awakened with Loki in his arms, Loki whispers words before his scrying mirror, opening the thin threads of magic that connect him to that room far across the stars. At first, he thinks that Thor is with the woman again, and his stomach twists so hard that he retches dryly. Then he realizes that the woman has red hair, bright and shining in the light of Thor’s sitting room. 

It is the spy. 

She and Thor sit next to each other on the couch, heavy tankards of beer in their hands and a bottle of silvery white alcohol on the table between them. The spy has her legs curled up beneath herself, and seems in the middle of asking Thor something. 

“…I just want to understand better, you know,” she says. “After yesterday, I started thinking about it.”

“Lady Natasha, there is nothing to explain. I am a warrior. The love of battle runs through my veins as strongly as the blood that fills us both.” Thor’s voice is rough, and he takes a deep swallow of beer. 

“None of that 'lady' crap, Thor. Not when we’re having a night together like this,” the spy - Natasha - says. Then she shakes her head. “Anyway, it’s different, and you know it. Cap is a warrior too, but he doesn’t look like you, not ever.”

Natasha stands, making her way to the painting Loki so adores, running a finger across its frame before she turns to Thor, leaning against the wall next to it.

“People die in our battles. And yet, I look over, and all I see is joy on your face, delight and pleasure while you swing that hammer and shatter their bones and break their souls. I’m just trying to understand why.”

“Everyone dies, Natasha. In battle, I can keep my friends who are alive safe for a few minutes longer. Who would not delight in that?”

Natasha scoffs at the same instant Loki lets out a snort. Even Thor didn’t sound convinced by what he just said. Loki leans in, and watches as Natasha makes her way over to Thor. She settles back on the couch, looking at Thor with searching eyes. 

“Of course. But there is something else. You take delight in the battle in a way that I’ve never seen. Clint and I love what we do, but there is always this twist in the gut, this ache that never goes away. You don’t feel that. I’ve never seen you sick after a battle, horrified at the carnage around you. I’ve never seen you drink your way to oblivion, like Tony, or pray like Steve. You don’t seal yourself off like Clint does sometimes, or ignore things, like I do. You revel in it. Why?”

Loki’s heart beats faster in his chest as he watches Thor take a long drink of beer, then slam back a shot of whatever is in that bottle - vodka perhaps. He glances sideways, then sighs. 

“Lady Natasha, I am not sure I can… I should… explain this to you.” 

“Scouts honor, Thor, I’m not looking for information or anything. I’m just curious. I just want to understand. Maybe learn from you.”

Thor laughs, and Loki laughs too. He edges forward in his chair, though, wondering what Thor will say. 

“It is different, for me,” Thor starts. 

“No kidding,” Natasha snorts. 

“No, Natasha. That’s not what I mean. Do you know how long I have been alive?”

“A few thousand Earth years? We had a bet going for a while, but we gave up trying to get you to tell us.”

“That’s near the mark. And I will live for thousands more.”

“And?” Natasha raises an eyebrow. 

“You are all just fleeting flickers in my life. You live and die like sparks flying from a fire, flitting into the heavens and then disappearing before I can truly spend time with you. Your hearts are so big, your minds so creative, but in the end, you will all disappear. Fifty years, a hundred years, it matters not. You will all die and live on only as memories, recorded on the pages of history and written into my heart. What does it matter if our enemies live a few years less than their span? It is a mere flash of time, nothing more.”

Natasha is silent, shifting on the couch. Thor leans in, taking her hands. 

“I care not for them. I can make your short time here in this realm better, can change your lives. Why should I let grief over the death of a moth matter when I can watch a butterfly grow to completion?”

“Is that all we are to you?”

“You are my friends. You matter to me.”

Natasha shakes her head. “I hadn’t thought about how we must seem to you before.”

“It is nothing. You treat me as your companion, and that is enough for me.”

Loki snorts, waving a hand and making the image vanish in the mirror in front of him. He needs not hear Thor’s assurances that he cares about his pitiful gang of companions on Midgard. He has heard enough. The artist whose work Loki so loves has seen to the core of Thor’s being, and Thor himself still knows that. He is still as ruthless as ever, even if the Midgarders have softened him in some ways. 

Loki lies back on his own divan, smirking. He tosses an apple into the air, catching it as it falls. Thor is of Asgard, is just as the artist drew him, and he will come to understand it fully again some day. 

***

Loki looks in the next night to find Thor alone, as he almost always is now. He is curled on his bed, not quite asleep, clutching the blanket about himself. His hair is tangled, and in the dim light, Loki notices something he hasn’t seen before. Woven into Thor’s hair is a long dark strand, startling against Thor’s fair hair. He remembers something similar from when they were together after his imprisonment, but this strand seems newer. 

Loki reaches up to feel at his own hair. There, just at the back, is a place where one piece is much shorter than the rest. He had wondered at it when he had awoken alone on Svartalfheim. Now, looking at Thor, he understands. His heart clenches, beating hard in his chest, and Loki bites his lip. Then he sweeps out of the room, Odin’s face settling on his. He tells the guards he is not to be followed or disturbed. 

It is a simple matter to slip out of Asgard undetected, now that he is king. He makes his way to Midgard as fast as he can, one hand flitting to the back of his head every so often, fingering the ragged edges of his hair. Thor’s chambers are quiet when he finds his way inside, and when he peers into the bedchamber, he finds Thor asleep at last, curled about empty space. 

Loki transforms his clothing with a wave of his hand, finding his way into bed. Thor groans as Loki nestles down next to him, throwing a heavy arm around Loki’s waist. Loki sighs as Thor nuzzles into his hair. Thor is hot next to him. His warmth seeps through Loki’s skin, invading his body and turning his aching muscles soft and pliant. Loki gasps softly. 

Thor stirs again in his sleep, his lips finding Loki’s forehead and caressing it. Loki bites his lip, his mouth trying to stretch into a smile. He manages to hold it back, though, and he falls asleep that way, his lip clenched in his teeth and his whole body pressed to Thor’s. 

***

He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night, drowsy and only half alert. He’s pressed up close to Thor, one of his legs tangled between Thor’s thick thighs. Loki squirms a little, wondering what woke him, then realizes that Thor is looking at him through sleep bleary eyes. 

“Loki?” Thor whispers. 

“Yes, brother?” Loki mutters back, sending a pulse of seidr into his brother, making Thor feel as though this is just a dream. 

“You’re alive?”

“At least here, for you.”

Thor’s face falls. He sighs, gathering Loki close to him. It’s only then that Loki realizes that Thor is hitching his hips gently against Loki’s thigh. He shivers, feeling how Thor is hard against him. 

He should leave now, vanish from Thor’s arms and leave Thor thinking that he has awoken from deep sleep. But if he does, Loki will have to go back to his cold rooms on Asgard, to his pretense and his games. He takes a deep breath. Then he presses closer to Thor, letting his hands smooth over Thor’s wide chest. 

“What do you want, brother? You can have anything, here.” Loki whispers against Thor’s lips. He wants to see what Thor will take, when he thinks there are no consequences, when he thinks that his mortal friends will never learn of his transgressions. 

Thor kisses Loki softly, his mouth working against Loki’s in slow movements. One of his hands creeps up Loki’s back to tangle in his hair, and his hips jerk a little, pressing against Loki’s thigh. He tugs lightly on Loki’s hair. 

Loki moans, sparks fluttering through his veins. His whole body feels on the verge of trembling, and he pushes closer to Thor, trying to still his shaking. This is a new sensation, something Loki doesn’t remember, not even from before he fell from the Bifrost and lost his place on Asgard. This is something that makes his heart beat faster in his chest, his hands clench and grab at Thor’s skin. Thor tugs harder at his hair, and Loki growls. 

“You like that?” Thor asks, his voice rough. 

“Yes,” Loki hisses, arching against Thor. Here, he feels almost as though he is dreaming as well, as though whatever he does in this bed will not matter once he leaves it. He presses his thigh against Thor’s cock, his own thickening in his sleep shorts. 

“You’re always in my dreams, Loki. I can’t fall asleep without feeling you against me,” Thor whispers, his kisses trailing across Loki’s jaw and down his throat. 

Loki tilts his head back, giving Thor more room to work, and Thor nips at the soft skin just above his collar bone. One of Thor’s hands creeps down his back, slipping into his sleep shorts and caressing his ass. Loki squirms, and Thor’s fingers clench on him, digging into one cheek and squeezing. 

“Are you haunting me?” Thor asks, biting Loki’s chest. “Am I cursed to live out my fantasies since I never did so while you were alive?”

Loki gasps as Thor’s fingers trace between his ass cheeks, squirming and rutting his cock against Thor’s hard belly. 

“Did you want this back then?” he manages to get out. 

“More than anything,” Thor growls. 

“Not more than anything,” Loki’s chest clenches. 

“More than anything,” Thor says again, almost snarling the words. He grabs the waistband of Loki’s shorts, pulling them down to tangle between Loki’s legs. “I wanted you more than that bloody throne, more than fame, more than glory.”

“Not more than the human,” Loki has to spit out the sharp words, as he always does, wounding Thor and himself at the same time as though it is some sort of compulsion

“More than anyone, Loki.” Thor looks up, his eyes huge, his pupils blown and his lips wet. “You have no idea how long I needed you.”

Loki squirms again, and this time his bare cock presses against Thor’s hot skin. Thor moans, kicking his own legs to free himself of his clothing. He pulls Loki down the bed until they are perfectly face to face, their cocks aligned. 

“You left me. You left me alone on that planet, dead, just so you could save her,” Loki groans as Thor wraps his hand around both their cocks. 

“I’m sorry,” Thor whispers, his eyes wide and glassy. “I’m so sorry, Loki.”

Loki kisses him, pressing their lips together hard. There is something in Thor’s gaze that makes his chest ache, his stomach tense. He licks into Thor’s mouth, trying to free himself of the feeling. Thor kisses back, his mouth working against Loki’s.

Loki gasps against Thor's lips when Thor’s hand starts to move again, stroking them. Somehow, Thor has managed to take both of them in his hand, and even though his fingers can’t close, it is enough. Thor groans, and Loki jerks his hips forward, working himself against Thor’s cock. 

“You should have told me,” Loki whispers. “You fool, you should have said something.”

“I couldn’t,” Thor groans. Their cocks are slick with precome now, Thor leaking over his fingers and smearing it over them both. 

“So you tell me now, now that I’m a dead phantom? You tell me, now that I cannot enjoy your want?”

“Brother…” Thor gasps out. His breath is ragged, little pants spilling across Loki’s skin. 

“Yes,” Loki hisses. His whole body is on fire, sparks settling deep in his spine and his thighs aching. His balls draw up, and his cock twitches. 

“Loki, brother, love, I am so sorry,” Thor moans. 

Loki comes with a muffled whine, his back arching and his heart fluttering so fast in his chest that he can hear the drumbeat of his pulse in his ears. His eyes slip closed, but even so, he cannot block out the feeling of Thor coming against him as well. Thor’s moans fill his ears, and Thor’s hand strokes him just to the point of oversensitivity. 

When Thor finally releases his cock, Loki is shaking, sweat covering his chest, his thighs aching and damp hair falling in front of his eyes. Thor’s cheeks are wet, and when he brushes his cheek against Loki’s to give Loki another kiss, Loki can feel Thor’s tears against his own skin. 

He kisses Thor softly, stroking his hair, gentling him. Thor says nothing. Slowly, his eyes slip shut and his breathing evens out. His hands do not fall from Loki’s sides, though, nor does he roll away from Loki. 

Loki waits a while longer, watching Thor sleep quietly. Their come goes cold between them, drying on his skin, and Loki shivers. It takes a single spell to wash them clean, and another to ensure that Thor dreams a while longer. Then, with a long sigh, Loki pulls away, rolling out of bed. 

He robes himself in Odin’s seeming with a wave, staring down at Thor. The bed looks warm and inviting, and Loki clenches his fist to stop himself from climbing back in and allowing Thor to wake at his side. Loki is king of Asgard now. He has a realm to attend to, not simply his huge, sad brother. 

Loki turns and walks out of the room. He runs his fingers across the painting in the living room’s frame, then vanishes from sight. He cannot stay here. His chest aches far too much for that. 

***

Loki keeps himself from his scrying mirror for three days. He works himself to exhaustion, experimenting with the very limits of his magic, just so he can fall into bed each night, too tired to work even one more spell. He sets his mind to the task of redefining Asgard’s power, of swaying his warleaders to his dream of prosperity. 

Every morning, though, he wakes hard. Sweat drenched, he rolls over in bed and tries not to think about how Thor’s fingers felt wrapped around his cock, about how Thor’s mouth tasted and about how Thor’s whispered apologies filled his ear. Loki gets himself off in without looking down, trying not to think about how good Thor felt stroking him, touching him. 

He lasts until he catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the fourth day. Loki has let his disguise fall away now that he’s alone in his chambers. There, bright on his neck, is a bruise that hasn’t quite faded. Loki presses his finger to it, wincing a little as he finds the skin a little tender. He doesn’t remember Thor biting him hard enough to leave such a lasting bruise, but there is no other place that it could have come from. 

Before he can even consider what he is doing, he weaves together strands of power, looping them round his scrying mirror and knotting them just so. They flare green and golden for an instant, then dissolve, leaving the mirror a dark blot on the wall, blacker than even the night sky. Loki stares into it, waiting for an image to resolve before him. There are a few long seconds where he waits. 

And waits. 

And finally throws up his hands in frustration. Scrying, Frigga taught him, is an exact art. You have to know who you’re looking for, when, and what realm they’re in. Miss any one of the three, and you’ll find nothing when you look into the mirror. 

Thor must not be on Earth. Thor must not even be in Midgard. He is somewhere else entirely, gone out of Loki’s reach, vanished. Loki clenches his fists, his heart beating fast and his vision clouding over as he grits his teeth. Thor is not there. 

A jagged slash of his hand reopens his connection to the spell, and he focuses on Natasha Romanov. Even if Thor is gone from Midgard, his friends are sure to be there, protecting their world. Loki’s chest heaves as he waits for the mirror to clear and the scene to resolve in front of him. 

Natasha is sitting perched on the arm of a heavy chair, looking down at Tony Stark, who sits across from her. Loki notices almost nothing about the room, he’s so intent on the conversation. 

“… and then he just left?” Stark is saying. 

Natasha nods, her shoulders drawn up and her hands fluttering a little. 

“Jane stormed out, muttering something about deserving better than this. Then he just walked past me onto the balcony and took off.”

“Did he even say anything to you? Like, I don’t know, when he’d be back? If he wants us to call him when we have a mission?”

“He said something…” Natasha looks around the room, as though searching for a way out. Loki would laugh at her obvious act if he wasn’t breathing too fast to get the sound out. 

“Nat…” Stark clearly knows she’s faking her nerves, as well, but seems to want to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

“Look, he just said that he didn’t belong here right now, and that there were things he had to deal with in other realms. I… I don’t think he’s coming back, at least not right now.”

“Why! Did you say something? Did someone else? Vision, Wanda, Cap, anyone? Pointe Break isn’t usually so… flighty” Stark’s chuckles darkly at his own joke. 

“I didn’t scare away a god, Tony,” Natasha’s voice is flat. 

“Not really a god,” Stark complains, then shakes his head. “Whatever. I meant did you give him some idea he wasn’t welcome.”

Natasha jumps off her chair, stalking over to Stark with her hands on her hips. Stark’s eyes tighten at the corners, and he presses backward against the cushions behind him. 

“ _I didn’t say anything, Tony,_ ” she hisses. “Thor and I are friends. I’m not going to scare him off. It’s not my fault the man is basically immortal and has things other than us to worry about. Or that he ran off on us. I’m sure he has more responsibilities than just this one little planet.” 

Loki lets the scrying spell go in a flash of unraveling seidr. He doesn’t need to hear any more of the humans' argument. Thor is gone. 

Loki does not know where to find him. He cannot search the universe for Thor, not with spells he can work without notice and not without revealing more of himself than he must in his disguise. He cannot ask Heimdall, the risk is too great. He cannot send the ravens - they do not answer to him, even disguised as the Allfather. 

Thor is lost to him. 

Loki sinks down onto the floor against one wall, pulling his kneels to his chest. His fingers tremble where he wraps them around his knees, and his chest heaves. His cheeks go wet, and Loki wipes a rough hand across his face, trying to free his face of tears before they can roll down his chin. 

Loki stays there for long moments, trying not to hiccup as he cries. He bites his lip until it bleeds, but he can’t stop shaking. His whole body aches by the time he can breathe freely. His chest is wet with tears, and his hair hangs about his face in a tangled mess. He can hardly see his chambers, his eyes are so puffy from sobbing, and his body feels like it’s been wrung out like a wet cloth. 

Thor is gone, and Loki will not be able to find him until Thor chooses to reveal himself. There is nothing to be done about it, save try to learn how to sleep alone once again. Loki shakes his head. It might be easier to learn to live without sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +*hand waves vaguely* I DUNNO. IT WORKS CAUSE MAGIC.
> 
> + ~~Ch1 is set after AoU. Ch2 is set during Thor: Ragnarok~~ I lied. Ch1 is after AoU, Ch2 is between AoU and Ragnarok, and Ch3 is during Ragnarok. WHOOOPS.
> 
> +Find me on tumblr and come chat at [saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +We get a lot more Thor in this chapter. I couldn't resist.

Thor sleeps late the day after he leaves Midgard. He’d spent only moment on Asgard, only long enough to step from the bifrost, greet Heimdall, and make his way to the tiny ship Odin gave him a hundred years ago. Then he’d been off for the stars, blindly picking a direction and traveling until he was exhausted. He’d touched down on this planet late into its night cycle, hiding his ship from prying eyes and stumbling into the first inn he’d found. 

He groans now as he opens his eyes. The daylight here is painfully bright, filtering in through the gaps in the wooden shutters, blue and cold. Thor groans, throwing an arm across his eyes. His whole body aches, as though protesting not only the higher gravity here, but also the abuse of being flung across the galaxy on such short notice. He stretches his legs out on the bed, pointing and flexing his feet, trying to work the kinks out of his calves. It doesn’t work, though, and one leg seizes up. The pain sparkles behind his eyes, and Thor gasps. He rolls off the bed, stumbling across the room on shaking legs. Slowly, the cramp fades away, leaving him standing in his small clothes in the center of the room. 

Thor shakes his head. His dreams were filled with ghastly visions, his friends’ faces swimming in front of him as they called out to him with dead voices. He’d reached out to them, but they’d flickered out of being, fleeting sparks in a dying fire. He can still see dream-Jane’s hollow cheeks and sunken eyes as she’d screamed to him that he had never deserved the years she’d given him. 

Last had been Loki. Thor drops his eyes, rubbing at them as he remembers. The dream had seemed to grow brighter for a instant when Loki appeared. Dark shadows gave way to warm, golden light. He’d found himself relaxing, his body ready for Loki’s familiar such. It hadn’t come, however. Instead, Loki had met him with cold steel, sinking a dagger into Thor’s heart. His broken face was the last thing Thor had seen before he’d awoken, Loki’s whispering voice in his ears. 

“Join me, then. You never followed me when we were alive. Follow me into death now, brother, love.”

It echoes in Thor’s mind, even now that he’s awake. He shakes his head, but the sound of Loki’s voice still fills his ears even now that he's awake, the tone of sharp accusation making the skin on the back of his neck crawl. Thor grimaces, stomping over to where his armor is piled in one corner of the room. He fumbles with his tunic as he pulls it on. Usually, dreaming of Loki makes him wake up happy and satisfied, as though he has spent the night in a warm embrace. 

Not this time. 

Now his hair is damp with sweat, his hands clammy as he tries to straighten his tunic enough to buckle on his breastplate. There is no shower attached to his room here, only a bathing room somewhere on the first floor of the inn that the proprietor had opened for him for an instant the night before. Thor had taken one look at the grime coating the floor there, and sworn he would wait to bathe until the next inn. Now he wonders if he should have chosen differently. His skin crawls with the remnants of the visions and his mouth tastes like sleep and hateful dreams. 

His room in Stark’s tower seems far away, lost to him, ripped away by something out of his control. Thor shakes his head again, buckling on his breastplate with aching fingers. Thor is the one who bears the blame for this exile, he is the one who controls his place in the universe. As much as he would like to think that Jane, or Stark, or Midgard itself had chased him away, that is not so. It is his own mind, his dreams of a thread of life that runs differently than his own, that drove him here, halfway across the galaxy, standing in a rundown inn with his armor only half on. 

Thor straightens his back. Self pity creeps through him, twisting his stomach and making him nauseous. He rolls his shoulders, chuckling a little under his breath. The great Thor, in a dirty room on a planet no one loves, bemoaning the dreams that chased him away from his friends. He can do better than this. He can put his flight to some purpose, can help his friends on Midgard even if he cannot bear to be around them right now. 

He buckles on his vambraces. Thor has never been without a purpose before, save for those few short days on Earth after his father sent him to find himself there. Even then, Thor’s purpose had been set, though he himself had not known it. Now, he is free of all obligations. For a moment, Thor’s breathing speeds again, until he looks down and sees the carefully worked metal of his armor, the carven sides of mjolnir. 

_Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather. ___

__Thor heard that long ago on Midgard, on a small island called Japan. It echoes through his head now, and he thinks to himself that perhaps its true, but not always in the same way that the men who recited it to him intended. Duty settles on his shoulders, weighing him down, steadying him. Thor takes up mjolnir, hanging it from his belt and clenching his fist. He is his own actor now, not that of Asgard, but he is still _of_ Asgard. He still owes the realms his defense and his loyalty. He may not be king, or even, perhaps, crown price, but he is a defender of the worlds, a strong arm that will search out the realms enemies and destroy them. _ _

__And if there is one thing threatening the worlds right now, it is the infinity stones. If there is one thing he has a duty to do, it is to find them and stop them from being used against his friends. Duty may be heavier than a mountain, but sometimes weight is needed to keep one on the ground._ _

__***_ _

__Thor lands on Conjunction late in its night. The lights of countless clubs twinkle as he cloaks his ship and stomps across the sand towards the edge of the city. It’s starting to get cold, the desert bleeding heat so fast that Thor has to wrap his grey cloak around himself more tightly as he walks._ _

__This is only a stopover, a chance to refuel and to ask around and find out if anyone has seen the creatures wreaking havoc across the nine realms. It’s a chance to wander Conjunction’s black markets and see if anything leads him to the power directing those creatures._ _

__Thor shakes his head. He’s been on their trail for weeks, distracted from his search for the infinity stones by reports of horrors decimating villages and destroying all in their path. He’s slept little, and his eyes feel grittier than his short time on Conjunction can warrant. Each time he puts his head on the pillow, whether in his ship or in some backwater town, he sees Loki’s face._ _

__“Why did you let me die?” Loki asks him._ _

__Thor always shakes his head, not sure what to say._ _

__“I could have helped you with this,” Loki hisses. “We could have worked together.”_ _

__“We wouldn’t have, though,” Thor often manages to say._ _

__“Do you really think that? After what I did for you? After I died for you?”_ _

__Thor wakes up then, his chest aching and his whole body drenched in sweat. He can’t remember the last time he’s gotten a good nights sleep. He thinks it may have been back on Midgard, a year or more ago, back when his dreams of Loki were all of heat and pleasure, and the soft brush of Loki’s lips against his. As strange as that was, he would trade these new dreams for those in a heartbeat, an instant._ _

__He would trade them both for Loki, alive again, even if the first thing Loki did was pull out a knife and drive it through Thor’s heart. It would be easier that way, to die by Loki’s hand; far easier to join him in Hel or in Valhalla than to wander the universe on an endless search that will never lead back to home and family and the way things used to be._ _

__Thor shivers as he comes to the edge of the city proper. He slips in through an unguarded gate, then pauses. Curled up next to one stone wall is a beggar. Her rags stink with sweat, and Thor wrinkles his nose for a moment. Then he kneels down, reaching out a hand to the beggar._ _

__The woman doesn’t take his offered fingers, but she does push back her tattered hood. Her eyes are bright blue underneath heavy lashes, her skin burnished silver that gleams and shimmers like metal, but folds and slumps like skin._ _

__“What do you want?” she mutters, her voice as dusty as her robes._ _

__“To help,” Thor murmurs. “Tell me what you need.”_ _

__“Nothing,” she laughs, and her chuckle is like autumn leaves crackling underfoot. “Not from you, beautiful. You won’t give me what I want.”_ _

__“Tell me, and if it is within my power, I will grant it.”_ _

__“Off this planet. Out of this place. Away from this burning, freezing hell, and back home.”_ _

__“Where is home?”_ _

__“Galador,” she laughs again, then wets her lips with a flick of her tongue. “Not that I look it anymore.”_ _

__Thor clenches his fist. He’s heard of Galador, of the myriad wars waged on its surface, of the mechanical knights that defend it with their lives. It’s near enough to the wide path of destruction that’s been wending its way across the galaxy. He nods slowly._ _

__“And yet you still wish to return?”_ _

__She grimaces, nodding. Her eyes have grown brighter as she speaks, and she’s straightened up, shaking out her cloak a little. Underneath it, Thor can see armor that has been battered by the ravages of time, leather pieced together with stitches made of some sort of gut. He offers his hand once again._ _

__“I have no pressing duties. Find me tomorrow. I will take you there. It is as good a place for my search as any.”_ _

__“Sure,” she scoffs, slumping back against the wall. “You do that.”_ _

__“Do not doubt me. I am Thor son of Odin, and I will not betray my word to you.”_ _

__“Alright, Thor son of whoever. I’ll believe it when I see it.”_ _

__She lets her eyes slip closed, her mouth parting and revealing chapped and broken skin inside them. Thor shakes his head, standing slowly. This is not what he intended here. Yet he cannot deny the woman the chance to see her home again, not when he has just been dreaming of his own. It is as good a goal as any right now._ _

__He turns away from her, making his way deeper into the city. Perhaps he can learn something about the monsters ravaging the galaxy further in, something that can help him on his journey tomorrow. Perhaps he can get a drink of ale, and wash the taste of broken dreams from his mouth._ _

__Thor pulls his cloak tighter about himself, stepping out onto a wide street. Light spills out of doorways on either side. From one comes the raucous sound of a brawl, and as Thor is level with it, a few men spill out onto the street with bloodied lips and swelling eyes. Thor laughs, but skirts them as he makes his way down the street. As appealing as that is, he wants a quieter night tonight._ _

__***_ _

__The bar Thor finally settles on is half full when he steps through the doorway. It’s shadowy, and Thor can’t see clearly into the farthest corners, where a few men are clustered around a table. He ignores them after a single glance though, making his way to the bar._ _

__“What’ll you have, pal?” the willowy bartender chirps at him, their thin feelers waving on their forehead. Thor glances at the handful of dusty bottles in front of a cracked mirror, then shrugs._ _

__“Something strong,” he says._ _

__The bartender laughs, twittering as they grab a bottle from underneath the bar._ _

__“One house special coming up. Rough night?”_ _

__Thor sets mjolnir down on the floor, then settles onto a stool, planting his elbows on the bar. His spine almost collapses, sagging as he finally lets the tension drain out of his muscles._ _

__“Long year, or two, or ten,” he responds._ _

__“We can cure that on Conjunction,” the bartender tells him, shaking Thor’s drink in a tumbler. “Stay a while. We’ll put you to rights.”_ _

__Thor thinks back to the woman at the gate of the city, thinks of her haunted eyes and blackened clothes. He shakes his head. He doesn’t need whatever salvation Conjunction offers, except where that salvation is concerned with a quick drink and a soft bed._ _

__“Not your mug of grog?” The bartender slides Thor’s drink over to him with what might be a faint smirk._ _

__“Got things to do. I can’t stay here long.”_ _

__Thor takes a sip of the drink. It slides down his throat smoothly, hardly burning. Then it settles in his stomach, and his whole body seems to warm. The drink feels like golden light flowing through his veins, waking him up while relaxing him at the same time. He raises an eyebrow as he looks at the bartender._ _

__“Better than you were expecting?” the bartender’s feelers wave more energetically._ _

__“It is truly a marvel.”_ _

__“Many things on Conjunction are.”_ _

__Thor snorts into his drink but doesn’t contradict the bartender. Conjunction may have good drinks, but drinks are only fleeting pleasure, a passing moment of joy on a world that cannot every bring lasting pleasure._ _

__Something must show on his face, because the bartender leans in, putting a scaly hand on Thor’s forearm. “Look, you seem to be having a time of it. You should go see Ansher, in the corner there. He’ll give you a good time, or get someone who’ll help.” He points to the corner opposite the man clustered around the small table._ _

__Thor turns to follow his fingers, and gasps. His heart beats faster, sparks flying through his veins for a single instant. The man in the corner has long black hair, slicked back from his forehead. His high cheekbones lead to a pointed chin, and his mouth curves into a smirk._ _

__For a single, insane instant, Loki’s name forms on Thor’s lips._ _

__Then he shakes himself. It isn’t Loki. It cannot be. The air rushes out of his lungs as he catalogues the differences between this man - Ansher - and Loki. A narrower nose, slightly wider shoulders. A softer profile, but only just. They are small details, but enough that Thor knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that his brother is not here._ _

__He looks back at the bartender, raising an eyebrow, trying not to let his shock show on his face. The bartender laughs, though, patting his arm again._ _

__“Ansher got you? He’s good at that, giving you what you want. Go talk to him. Tell him Hszinz sent you.”_ _

__Thor ducks his head a little, avoiding the bartender’s eyes as he mutters his thanks. Then he takes another long pull of his drink, letting the warmth settle in his stomach. He can’t help but glance back over his shoulder at Ansher. His resemblance to Loki is uncanny, almost enough to drive Thor over there. He takes yet another drink. Almost enough, but not quite. Not yet._ _

__***_ _

__Thor wakes late the next morning. He’s in a wide bed, the covers rumpled around him. On the floor next to him, his armor lies in disarray. He groans as he opens his eyes. The light is too bright around him, pressing in on his eyes and pounding at his temples. He flings one arm out to his side, trying to at least work the ache out of his shoulders if his head is going to insist on pounding._ _

__His fingers fall on a piece of paper. Thor groans again, rolling towards the center of the bed. He tugs the offending sheet close to him, and his aching eyes slowly make out the words that curl across the paper. The script is thin and delicate, looping in all the right places._ _

___Thor,_ it reads, _I am sorry not to have been able to give you what you want. Whoever this Loki is, he is very luck to have a man who is so devoted to him. Leave here, now. Don’t look back. Go find him. This is not the place for you. - Ansher.__ _

__Thor swallows hard as his eyes skim the page. Yesterday night is coming crashing back in a rush of horribly vivid color. Thor presses his face into the pillow as he runs through the memories, grimacing at each successive image._ _

__He’d finally, seven drinks in, gotten up and slipped into the chair across from Ansher. He’d thumped mjolnir down next to him and leaned forward, looking hard at that face which was so like Loki’s._ _

__“Who are you?” He’d demanded._ _

__“That’s no way to greet a new friend,” Ansher had responded._ _

__“The bartender told me to come talk to you. He spoke of you highly.”_ _

__“Did he? Perhaps he is getting soft in his old age, if he is once again directing clients to me to get their hearts broken.”_ _

__“Are you so sure of the outcome of your dalliances?” Thor had raised one eyebrow as well as he could with strong drink running steadily enough through his veins._ _

__“I can give you a seeming of your heart’s desire, but only a seeming. That is enough for some people, but only a very few. Most find it does not slake their desire in the end.”_ _

__Thor had wrinkled his brow, leaning in towards Ansher._ _

__“How do you give them that?”_ _

__“I give them who, or what they want, for a night.”_ _

__“How do you know?”_ _

__“It is in my nature. How do you see me?”_ _

__“As…” Thor had hesitated, had tried to choose his words carefully. “You look almost as someone I loved very much. But he is dead. I cannot desire him anymore.”_ _

__It had taken a moment for the words to register with Thor, even though they had left his own lips, and now he blushes, just recalling them. Loki is his brother, dead or alive, strange dreams or no dreams. He should not have said that._ _

__Ansher had simply nodded. “Desire of the dead,” he’d murmured. “Many come here with that dream. What would you do about it?”_ _

__For a moment Thor had been about to turn away from the table, to wallow in his misery and leave this strange creature to his devices. Then, though, he’d caught a smirk on Ansher’s face that was so reminiscent of Loki that it make his heart ache. Instead of leaving, he’d leaned in._ _

__“What is the price?” he’d asked._ _

__Ansher had named it - a petty sum to Thor’s mind, but perhaps worth more on this desert planet, and had asked that he have Thor’s pleasure in return. Thor had shrugged._ _

__They’d left together, making their way to this hotel only a few streets down from the bar. Ansher hadn’t touched him until they were inside the room. Then he’d wrapped his arms around Thor’s waist, burying his face in Thor’s chest and squeezing tightly._ _

__For a few long moments, Thor had relaxed into the embrace. If he let his mind wander, he had been able to imagine it was Loki pressed against him, Loki who he hugged back. The illusion lasted only seconds, though, and then Thor had pulled away, his stomach twisting as he looked at Ansher._ _

__It had gone on the whole night. He’d kissed Ansher deeply, then realized he wasn’t kissing Loki and pulled away in horror. He’d caressed Ansher’s body, and felt as though he were breaking a sacred vow, though no such vow could he ever have made when Loki was alive._ _

__Finally, Ansher had set him down on the edge of the bed. He’d slid, naked, behind Thor, wrapping his arms around Thor and setting his chin on Thor’s shoulder._ _

__“You cannot let him go, can you?” He’d asked._ _

__Thor had shaken his head._ _

__“Then I will be no good to you. You love him still, with such desperation that it stops my breath. I cannot help you.”_ _

__Thor had wanted to protest. He loves Loki as his brother. All this else, the dreams, taking Ansher into his bed, it means nothing. But Ansher had stroked his back until he’d fallen asleep, and Thor had never managed to get the protest out from between his lips._ _

__Now Thor mouths it into the pillow. He punches the soft mound, slamming his fist down next to his head. He screams, and the sound is just barely muffled._ _

__“As a brother. He’s dead, and I love him only in that way. Only.”_ _

__The words tear out of his lips and spill uselessly across the covers. Thor scrubs a hand across is face. His cheeks are hot, and his insides still cringe from recalling the night before with Ansher. Thor's cheeks are damp too, though, and his eyes feel puffy and raw. He growls. He does not like this weakness, this curse Loki’s shade seems to have put on him. He does not like how all he can think of is Loki, even when there is duty left. He was supposed to investigate the destruction on neighboring worlds last night, but instead, Loki filled him up until all he could do was try to find a substitute to bring home._ _

__And it wasn’t even a substitute, Thor reminds himself. He would never have brought Loki back to his room like that. Loki was - is - was not like that._ _

__Thor wipes at his eyes again as he rolls off the bed. He cannot stay in this room a moment longer, not with the memory of those blue-green eyes and that dark hair haunting him. He needs to leave here, leave this planet. Conjunction seems only to see false pleasures, if Ansher is anything to go on. And Thor does not take kindly to things that are false._ _

__***_ _

__Thor is halfway out of the city before he remembers the woman from the night before. He squares his shoulders. He made her a promise, and he is going to keep it. He may not have been able to do any good on Midgard those last few days there, and he may not have been able to save his brother, but he can do this._ _

__He turns down the street leading to the small gate out of the city. Thor hopes she’ll still be there today. As much as it didn’t look as though it was any place for a person to be living, it is her home, if the few possessions scattered about yesterday were anything to judge from._ _

__Thor is startled from his musing by a sharp clattering sound. He glances behind himself, then down the alley to where the gate lurks like a dark hole in the otherwise sand colored wall. He can’t quite tell what made the noise from here, but he catches sight of a cluster of dark-cloaked shapes clustered around where the woman was huddling yesterday._ _

__Thor is running before he can even order his legs to take him towards the wall. The heat of the day beats down on him as he sprints down the alley, but he ignores it except when he has to dash away the sweat springing out on his forehead. It’s only a few short minutes until he reaches the end of the alley._ _

__Thor growls when he sees what is going on. Three men are clustered around the beggar woman, jeering at her and kicking her with heavy-booted feet. They turn when Thor comes up to them, and the one in the center laughs._ _

__“Get away from her,” Thor warns. His whole body seems alight now, blazing with barely constrained lighting. His muscles ache to be used, and his hand takes hold of mjolnir of its own accord._ _

__“Or what? You’ll take us all? That’s three against one, mate. I don’t reckon I like your odds,” the ringleader scoffs, and his two cronies chuckle after he glances at him._ _

__Thor doesn’t bother to respond. The first swing of mjolnir knocks the ringleader across the small square in front of the gate. He smashes into a stone wall and slumps to the ground, groaning. The other two thugs back away from Thor, circling him, wary now._ _

__Thor laughs. Gone is the horror from this morning, waking to find that Loki was once again dead and that Thor had grown so desperate that he’d sought out a substitute. Now, all is silver-white rage, and he feels washed clean, absolved of anything but the duty to destroy. He darts out, and suddenly one of the thug’s neck is between his fingers._ _

__It’s a few seconds work to take care of that one, and then Thor rounds on the last one standing. Delight races through his veins, and he gives a loud whoop of excitement. The remaining thug’s eyes go wide, and he turns away from Thor, starting to run._ _

__For a moment, Thor pauses in indecision. If he throws mjolnir, the hammer will make short work of the thug. Yet that way, things will be over all too quickly. Instead of throwing the hammer, Thor chases after the thug. He grabs him with bare hands, then slams a fist into his face, knocking his head back against a wall. The thug slumps to the ground, and Thor stomps on him for good measure._ _

__When he turns back to the square, the ringleader is starting to stir on the ground. Thor makes his way over with measured strides. His whole body still sings with the joy of battle, and he feels more alive than he has felt in years. With the Avengers, he always had to hold himself back. He had to make things tasteful for them, instead of doing what needed to be done, and crushing the vermin who ought to be crushed. Now, though, he is utterly alone._ _

__Thor lets his hammer fall on the ringleader’s skull as he savors the pleasure of the battle. It sparks through his veins, and he feels tiny sparks of electricity gather on mjolnir’s surface. For a moment, he stands there, breathing in the scent of death and the pleasure of a win. Then he turns back to the woman, looking her over._ _

__She cowers against the wall. Her hood has come off, and Thor can see her silver-grey hair and silvery skin more clearly now. She shrinks back when he comes up, but he kneels down just as he did yesterday._ _

__“Thor, son of Odin?” she gasps. “You came back?”_ _

__“Of course. I keep my promises. Now, I am leaving. If you would like to come with me, I can take you as far as Galador, but no further. If now, well, I doubt those thugs will be returning in this life.”_ _

__Her lips quirk up as he gestures behind himself, and Thor gives her a grin, letting all of the joy of the battle shine through._ _

__“No one comes back to me, Thor, son of Odin. I will take you up on your offer.”_ _

__Thor nods, standing. She struggles up next to him, and they make their way out of the gate, her limping and he almost bouncing with every step he takes, the joy of battle still filling his body with fire and delight._ _

__***_ _

__Loki hears rumors of his brother. He hears of a man on Conjunction who destroyed three of the city’s most notorious ner-do-wells, swinging a hammer the size of a man’s head. He hears of someone on Galador who had brought down a savaging beast that the knights had not been able to defeat. He hears to lightning striking on the moors of desolate planets, driving away invaders who trouble small villages and lonely outposts._ _

__He hears of the brutality of this lone man, of how he laughs as he fights, glorying in both victory and pain alike. Loki sits on his throne, and nods solemnly as his people deliver reports of Thor being spotted on this world or that. He wears his mask as Odin, managing never to rush from the room until the reports are over._ _

__When they finish, however, he races to his chambers, seidr already flowing from his fingers as he starts weaving a scrying spell. His disguise drops away the instant Loki makes his way into his chambers, and he huddles in front of his scrying mirror, calling up the last place Thor is known to have been with almost feverish speed._ _

__The mirror remains stubbornly black._ _

__For all Loki’s wishing, for all his talent, for all his magic, the mirror shows him nothing. He stares into the swirling darkness, his eyes straining for even the barest hint of a place, the least glimpse of a blue eye, or a strand of golden hair, but he sees nothing at all._ _

__There is nothing to be seen. He cannot find Thor, and having so publicly let Thor leave Asgard, he cannot go and stand on the Bifrost and use its power to locate him. He cannot ask Heimdal either, nor can he seek for his brother using the hidden treasures in Odin’s vault._ _

__He has tied his own hands as neatly as he might tie the strands of seidr in a spell. Loki tries to conceal his own frustration from his court, tries to placate them with long speeches about fostering peace in the realms. He draws up elaborate plans of how Asgard will establish itself as a benevolent guide, and pulls most of his forces out of Vanaheim as the first step to “granting them their independence.”_ _

__Loki designs elaborate schemes to improve how he is remembered in Asgard. At first he thinks that building a statue will be enough. Soon, though, he tires of designing it, and must find something new to distract himself from the aching, roiling pit deep in his stomach. It takes only weeks for distractions to wear themselves out, and he spends more and more of his time seeking out carnal pleasures._ _

__It is only in the few moments when he can truly lose himself in his game of playing the benevolent and aging king that he forgets what true peace is. It is only in those few instants that he does not recall how Thor kissed him, how they touched, how he finally had Thor all to himself, and had all of Thor’s attention on him._ _

__The rest of the time, the memory of his brother plagues him. The rest of the time, it is all he can do remind himself that Thor does not want what he wants. It is all Loki can do to spend only hours staring at the darkness of the empty scrying mirror, rather than days on end._ _

__***_ _

__Loki is planning one of his many distractions when Sif comes into the great hall. Her sword hangs at her back, and her breastplate gleams bright as she makes her way towards him. Loki sits up fully, dislodging the girl who has made her way onto his lap. He pushes away another maiden who seems to want to feed him some sort of sweet, and then he struggles to sit upright in his throne._ _

__“My Lady Sif. I am always pleased to see you,” he says, stifling a burp. He grabs his wine glass, taking another drink._ _

__“Allfather, I would speak to you privately.” Sif’s voice is sharp, and she glares at the servants arrayed around Loki._ _

__Loki waves a dismissive hand, and they all vanish. They leave behind the trays of delicacies he way trying to distract himself with, and he motions for Sif to come forward._ _

__“Join me, Lady Sif. There is more than enough to share.”_ _

__“I have no time for leisure now,” Sif barks._ _

__“Nonsense,” Loki laughs, giving Odin’s rich guffaw. “There is always time for pleasure.”_ _

__“Not so, Allfather.” The skin tightens around Sif’s eyes, and her shoulders tense up as Loki watches. He takes another sip of wine, then notices that the goblet is empty. It clangs when he sets it down, and Loki stifles another burp._ _

__“What is so pressing, my lady?” he asks, this time pushing down a hiccup._ _

__“Earth, Allfather. The midgarders have somehow started to have dealings with the Kree.”_ _

__That makes Loki sit up straight, even as his stomach protests. He leans forward, staring at Sif._ _

__“The Kree? What business do they have on Midgard?”_ _

__“Apparently Midgard was one of the many planets they seeded with their abominations years ago.” Sif sounds disgusted, but she manages to keep a straight face as she gets the words out._ _

__“And they have returned to the planet now? Why?”_ _

__“The Kree I met seemed only interested in stopping these abominations from becoming reality. Warriors with greater than human powers, who were molded by the Kree to be the perfect weapons.”_ _

__“You believe that the Kree have different plans?” Loki asks. He wants to chew on his bottom lip, as he does when he’s thinking, but it’s not a mannerism Odin ever seemed to use. Instead he laces his fingers together in front of his wide belly, looking Sif in the eye._ _

__“I do not know. The Midgarders have been secretive of late. Shield hides in the shadows, and the Avengers quarrel over petty grievances. I am sure if Thor were there-”_ _

__“He’s not there,” Loki cuts her off, then swallows hard. Another hiccup threatens to burst free, and his face flushes as he snaps out his words. “Thor is not there, Sif. Who knows if my son shall ever return, either to Asgard or to Midgard. He is_ not_ there.”

“I meant no disrespect, Allfather,” Sif hurries towards him, placing her hand onto of his as she kneels at his feet. “It is hard on us all, having him so far away.”

“One of my sons is dead, on a far-away planet, dead because I could not see past my own grief and face the reality of the war we were fighting. One of my sons is gone, and I know not where he roams across the skies.”

Loki’s mouth feels dry, and he snatches up the pitcher of wine, pouring a little into his glass as he looks down at Sif. She nods along with his words, her fingers stroking his hand. 

“Allfather, you did not bring about Loki’s death. It was his choice.”

Loki laughs, making Odin’s voice crack on the sounds. It is not hard, not hard at all. Never has Sif been so earnest and so wrong. 

“Perhaps,” he manages to say, patting Sif’s hand with his free hand. “And perhaps not. I do not know.”

“You did not cause his death, and you did not drive Thor away.” Sif looks up at him with bright eyes. “Allfather, you must know that. With Loki dead, nothing you could have done would have kept Thor here, with Loki’s half-imagined shade haunting every corner.”

“Oh?” Loki asks, intrigued in spite of himself. 

“Your sons love each other… loved each other,” Sif corrects herself after a moment’s pause. “It almost tore Thor apart to be here the first time, when he thought Loki died. Now, to spend his time grieving his brother in these very halls after Loki died in his arms? He could not have borne it.”

Loki nods, stroking Odin’s beard thoughtfully. Then he nods. 

“Perhaps you are right, Lady Sif. Perhaps. Yet I wonder how much I am to blame, for this and all Asgard’s misfortunes.”

“You are the Allfather,” Sif says, and her voice is like a clear bell. “You are not to blame, though you bear the responsibility of protecting us all.”

Loki almost laughs at her blind faith in his worthless father, blind faith that somehow cannot see that the man she kneels before is not Odin. He manages to pull himself back, though, by running her words back through his head. 

Sif believes Thor loves him. It is an idea Loki would not have considered just after he had fallen from the Bifrost, but this is a different time. Now, he rolls the notion over in his mind, savoring it as though it were as fine a vintage as the one the dregs of which remain in his goblet. Finally he nods. 

“I thank you for this, Lady Sif,” he murmurs, pushing dignity into his words. 

“Allfather… about the Kree…” Sif starts. 

“Another time, my lady. I must think on your words a while longer.” 

Sit stands, nodding at his dismissal. She stalks out of the room as Loki takes another long gulp of wine. Thor loves him, and everyone seems aware of it. Strange, and yet not so strange after all. 

***

Loki thinks about Sif’s words on and off for weeks. They float at the back of his mind during council meetings, or when he sits out, writing his play. They haunt him while he lazes in the garden, a pretty girl on his lap and his fingers full of some delicacy. He cannot seem to get them out of his head. 

He still rushes to his scrying mirror each night, but now when he sits in front of it there is a new desperation to his actions. If he can find Thor, he can find out if Sif is right. He can find out if Thor truly grieves him as deeply as Sif seems to think. 

Loki knows that he has wandered far afield from his original purpose when he started this game of spying on his brother. Then, all he had thought of was seeing how Thor could stand to live among the mortals. He’d wanted to know what had drawn his brother to them. He’d wondered, absently, what was so important that Thor was willing to leave Asgard to find it. 

Now, things are different. 

Loki shakes his head as he steps away from his scrying mirror. The darkness in its heart swirls and bleeds away, leaving only a glassy surface reflecting the rest of his room. Thor is nowhere to be found, but as Loki strips himself and slides into his bed, he can almost see Thor before his eyes. Loki imagines Thor just as he last saw him, his golden hair spilling out across his pillows and his mouth red from Loki’s kisses. 

Loki slips a hand down to trace his cock as he remembers how Thor had held tight to him that night, clutching at him almost desperately. Even the memory of Thor’s touch makes his skin burn. Loki’s cock stiffens as he reminds himself of all the places Thor had caressed. 

He misses Thor. He misses curling up against him in bed. He misses the painting in Thor’s room, and the power surging just below Thor’s skin. He misses how Thor smells, late at night, buried in clean sheets. 

“Sentiment,” Loki hisses to himself, wrapping his hand too tightly about his dick. It softens in his grip, and Loki hisses again, pounding his own head against his pillow. 

He loosens his hold on his cock, stroking himself slowly as he tries to imagine Thor next to him. Loki keeps his mind firmly fixed this time, cataloguing the details of Thor’s face, his body, his skin. He focuses only on the way Thor would feel, pressed up against him. He sighs as his cock starts to stiffen in his hand. 

Loki has not touched himself for weeks, ever since before Sif had come to talk to him. He aches with need now, and his imagined Thor only makes his stomach twist with lust and his breathing speed. He rubs at the head of his cock, twisting his fingers around it and then stroking down to the root with long, sharp movements. 

Loki bites his lip, wondering what Thor’s hand would feel like wrapped around his cock again. It would be huge, and Thor would kiss him and bite his neck, and moan that he’s missed Loki. He’d wear Loki out with pleasure, covering him with marks and bruises. When they were finally done, Loki would fall in to bed, sated and drowsy like he hasn’t been in years. 

He arches up as he imagines Thor jerking him through his orgasm, than licking Loki’s come from his thick fingers. Loki moans, the sound filling up Odin’s chambers. Then he comes, his heart racing and his breath spilling from between his lips in desperate, tiny pants. 

Loki slumps back onto the bed, cleaning himself perfunctorily with seidr. He’s alone again, without even the fantasy of Thor to keep him company. He’s alone, with Thor somewhere across the galaxy doing the Norns know what, and no one to trust here at court. Loki rolls over, pressing this face into the pillow. Such is his lot. Thor may love him, as Sif says, but it will take a lot more work before anyone else does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +One more chapter to go! The next one is set during Ragnarok. 
> 
> +Find me and scream about Thorki on tumblr [saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +The script for Ragnarok was a godsend in writing this chapter. Still, I can't wait till the film comes out on DVD and I can watch it repeatedly. 
> 
> +Until then, have some thorki set during it.

Loki’s mouth goes dry as Thor steps out of the crowd watching the play. Thor’s armor is grimy, his face streaked with sweat, and yet something about him makes Loki’s stomach clench up and his heart beat faster. Thor kneels in front of him as the crowd cheers for the end of the play. Loki swears under his breath as Thor smirks a little, as Thor glances at the delighted crowd and the women clustered around Loki on his couch. 

Loki’s muscles ache, his hands twitching at his sides as he stands up. They seem to act on their own, trying to reach out to Thor and take hold of him. Loki grimaces, stumbling away as he tries to resist the compulsion. Thor unslings the enormous skull from his back, asking him about the play. Thor’s smirk grows wider as he insults Loki’s statue, and Loki grits his teeth. As much as he wants to reach out to Thor, grab him and pull him close and press his face into Thor’s shoulder, Thor’s needling cuts him. He bites the inside of his mouth, clenching his fists in the folds of his robe. 

“Lock this use somewhere so it doesn’t turn into a giant monster and destroy the whole planet,” Thor shoves the skull at a guard and turns back to Loki. Loki’s stomach twists, and Thor hefts Mjolnir. 

“So it’s back to Midgard for you, is it?” He asks, half dreading that Thor will say yes. 

Instead Thor begins to swing the hammer, and Loki shifts from foot to foot. He only half listens to Thor tell him about a dream, instead watching as the hammer swings faster and faster. Thor’s eyes are bright on him, as he scoffs at Loki’s theatre and asks Loki what he’s been doing. At that, Loki’s chest flares with heat. 

“I’ve been busy! Board meetings, and security council meetings…” he protests. Thor wasn’t there. Loki hasn’t slept well in years, not since Thor disappeared from Midgard. He’s tried to dive headlong into pleasure and end endless minutia of the realm, and it hasn’t helped. And now Thor is here, looking at Loki with eyes that seem to press into his very soul. He’s here, and suddenly he’s flinging Mjolnir off into the distance.

Thor’s hand on the back of his neck makes Loki shake, even before he realizes what Thor intends to do. For a moment, Loki melts, but then he watches as Mjolnir hurtles back towards him. Thor doesn’t seem be stopping it. Thor doesn’t seem to be saving him. 

He tears himself away from Thor’s grasp, stumbling backward in his own shape. His throat aches and his eyes prickle as he looks at Thor’s snarling face. This is not how he imagined things. Not at all. 

***

Thor keeps a hand on Loki’s arm as they make their way though the empty corridors of the palace from Thor’s rooms. He’d dragged Loki to them after telling the crowd that they would go and retrieve Odin from wherever Loki had sent him. Loki had gone easily enough, trailing in Thor’s wake as his brother gathered up clean leathers and a new cape to replace the one Surtur’s minions had ravaged. And now he hurries beside Thor towards the Bifrost. 

When they’re halfway down the corridor, they come to niche with a small statue of Narfi nestled inside. Thor pulls hard on Loki’s arm, his fingers digging in. Loki stumbles, and Thor slams him up against the curve of the wall. Loki’s back smarts, his wrist aching where Thor has grabbed it and pinned it to the cold stone. 

“What, brother? Didn’t want to vent your anger on me in front of my adoring public?” Loki asks, twisting a little, trying to get free. He’s never been able to push Thor away though, not through feats of strength, not through his words, and it doesn’t work now. In any case, Thor’s fingers are hot around his wrist, rough and real, and so much better than Loki remembers. 

“You’ve been here this whole time?” Thor growls. 

“Well…” Loki starts, raising an eyebrow, “there was the day or two that I spent lying almost dead on Svartalfheim…” 

Thor growls again, leaning closer. His eyes are bright and almost wet looking. He licks his lips, biting the corner of them, and Loki shivers. It has been too long since he felt those lips against him. He can hardly remember what they feel like, can hardly remember how they move against his, how lazily Thor kisses in his sleep. He wonders if Thor remembers at all. 

“You never died?” 

Thor is so close now that Loki can smell his sweat, can feel the hot rush of Thor’s breath over his cheek. He bites back a groan, remembering that last night together, how Thor had nuzzled against his shoulder. They’re almost pressed together now, just like they were that last night in Thor’s bed, only now Thor isn’t dreaming, knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I don’t know,” Loki says, dropping his voice so it’s almost a whisper. “Maybe for a little while. I’m not dead now, though.”

Thor’s eyes flick down, and for an instant Loki thinks he is going to press their lips together. Instead, though, Thor shoves Loki’s wrist hard into the wall, pressing Loki into the masonry. He lets go almost immediately, his eyes going wide, and his cheeks flush as Loki laughs softly. 

Loki is still laughing as Thor turns from him and leads him down the corridor again. 

***

Loki is alone once again.

After finally finding Thor, after watching Odin die rather than confront the catastrophe he had wrought, this is what he has been reduced to - a plaything sleeping his way to the top of an insane world, a toy who is planning and plotting in the hopes of becoming a real boy. 

And he is alone. 

Loki shifts on the edge of the wide bed, spreading his legs wider and planting his feet more firmly on the floor. The marble is mottled green and blue, ostentatiously bright like everything else on Sakaar. His feet are pale against it, bare and boney, the joints of his big toes standing out prominently. He points his feet, then lets his heels relax back onto the floor. It’s cold, and Loki rolls his shoulders back, twisting up his mouth. 

He gathers his feet up underneath him slowly, edging backwards on the bed and sinking into the soft mattress. The room is new, a present from the Grandmaster after Loki had caught his eye at the last party the man threw. The ceiling is much higher than that in his last room, and there’s an attached bathing area with a wide bath that Loki took advantage of the moment he was shown inside. Most importantly, though, there’s a mirror. 

It’s across from the bed, giving anyone sitting on the mattress a perfect view of the room. There’s another mirror on the ceiling, but Loki ignores that one. Enticing as it may be in its possibilities, he doesn’t want to have to lie on his back on the bed for what he’s about to do. He rubs his hands together, flexing his fingers and cracking his knuckles. The sound is loud in the empty room. 

Loki takes a deep breath, letting his eyes slip shut. Seidr comes easily to him, flowing through his body. Its invisible strands knot up inside him, leading out to the rest of the room, webs of green and silver and gold and blue. When he opens his eyes again, he can see their faint illusions, the way they connect everything in the room from the marble floor to the one tall flower that stands in a vase in the corner. They flicker and blink, sometimes winking out of Loki’s sight if he looks straight at them, the rest of the time shimmering in a rainbow, an oil-slick dance of color and light. 

Loki reaches out with his mind, knitting them around the mirror, weaving an intricate pattern of threads. It is a tapestry of magic and light coating the silvery surface, each strand placed precisely. Scrying is no simple cantrip to be triggered in the middle of battle. It is a weaving of power, and one that Loki has not tried in the last week, not since he arrived in this trash covered and strangely decadent place. 

When he closes his eyes again, the strands of color fade away, sinking down in to his consciousness. He can still feel where they tremble on his fingertips, but when Loki reopens his eyes, they no longer shimmer at the edges of his vision. Instead, the mirror swirls with color. Loki bites his lip. 

The mirror goes black. 

It is blank, with the cold of deep space and the darkness of the edge of the universe looming inside it. Loki tenses one hand, seidr pulsing across the room, but the mirror stays blank. There is nothing for him to see. 

Loki slams his fist into the mattress and the coiled strands of seidr break. The mirror returns to its silvery self, reflecting him. His cheeks are read, his face flushed and almost feverish. Loki jumps off the bed, then immediately falls to his knees in the middle of the floor. His palm smarts where he slaps it down, but he hardly notices. 

Thor is not on Asgard. He is not on Midgard. He is nowhere Loki expects. He is gone. 

Loki screams, the sound echoing off the walls. It rips its way out of his throat, and he whimpers when it finally dies. He cannot find Thor, and this time he has no comforting trust in Thor’s mission to fall back on. This time all he has is the image of Hela racing after them in the Bifrost, knives out and eyes full of murder. 

Loki screams again, his bones protesting as he slams a hand into the floor. Thor cannot be gone for good. The universe would have given him some sign. There would have been some change he could have felt. His brother is not dead. He cannot be. 

***

Loki downs yet another drink. It isn’t strong enough to get him drunk - that’ll happen much later on in the night - but it's enough that he feels a pleasant buzz in his veins. He laughs hollowly at something the creature next to him says, nodding along at the joke. That, too, isn’t enough to fill the empty space inside him, but he knows that later on in the night, when the Grandmaster presses him onto the bed and pounds into him, at least a little bit of the loneliness that has torn him apart in the past few weeks will disappear. It will only lats a few hours, but that is all he can hope for, now. 

“Um… um… Attention good gentlefolk. Hem… Scrapper 142 - you all remember her, right - well, I’ve heard she’s brought me a special prize tonight. And you all remember, I think you remember, that she brought me my beloved champion.” The Grandmaster leans over to Topaz, and lowers his voice. It isn’t enough that Loki doesn’t catch what he’s saying. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

Topaz nods, and the Grandmaster’s face brightens. 

“Um… where was I? Ah! Scrapper 142 has brought me a new present. Anyone who wants to give him a warm welcome can come with me.”

Loki turns back to the crowd of admires gathered around him. Whoever the scrapper has brought, it’s probably just another worthless castaway who will get destroyed by the Grandmaster’s champion. Even though Loki hasn’t gotten a chance to see the monster yet, he’s heard tales of his prowess in the ring. Whoever has just shown up can’t possibly be a match for him. He’s not in a hurry to trail after the Grandmaster just to ogle some pitiful creature. 

It’s only a few minutes before the Grandmaster returns, a chair trailing after him. Loki catches sight of it out of the corner of his eye. He turns back to his admirers, though, as the Grandmaster starts to play. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to watch. Loki takes another drink. It is going to be a long night. The Grandmaster is sure to want to talk about his new champion, and when the man starts talking, it’s all Loki can do to get him to shut up. He smiles at the people hanging onto his every word. At least they want to listen to him. 

“Loki!? Loki, over here!” 

The cry comes just as Loki’s eyes fall back on the chair and his stomach twists uncomfortably inside him. His heart starts to beat faster, and his skin prickles. 

It’s Thor in the chair. Thor, with his hair a mess and an obedience disk fixed on his throat. It’s Thor, breathing and alive. The bottom falls out of Loki’s stomach, his knees buckling. He almost falls before he catches himself, taking a step closer to Thor to try to cover it up. 

Thor looks up at him in astonishment, but it’s nothing compared to how Loki feels. Thor is alive. Thor is alive and well, and sitting right in front of him. Tension that Loki didn’t even know was there drains out of his muscles, even as he and Thor chat inanely about the Grandmaster. He wants to reach out to Thor, cup the back of Thor’s neck as Thor has done so many times to him, press their foreheads together and breathe in the air caught between them. He wants to curl up beside Thor in a bed, wants to feel Thor’s heart beating. He wants to scream at his brother, wants to yell that Thor cannot keep disappearing like this, that it is worse than Loki pretending to die. 

He does none of that. 

Instead he nods to the Grandmaster, lets Thor be taken away to be readied for the ring. Loki’s heart beats faster as Thor leaves the room, but he bites his lip and lets it happen. Thor is alive, and that should be enough for him. Even more, Thor is alive and Loki knows where he is. He cannot ask for more than that, not yet. Not until he has more sway with the Grandmaster, or until Thor is free of the obedience disk and can do away with the Grandmaster once and for all. 

Loki finishes the rest of his drink. He needs to be drunk, approximately ten minutes ago. He needs to feel nothing but warmth and drug induced haze. He needs to wipe away the aching pain that springs up inside him as Thor disappears from the room. 

Sometimes, most of the time, Loki thinks to himself, his needs aren’t met. 

***

Loki shudders a little as he stands up from his bed. The Grandmaster left a few minutes ago, and Loki cleaned himself up with seidr as best he can. Now he pulls on his leathers with fingers that shake, and hands that seem to be moving through molasses. His ass aches, and the world blurs around him just the slightest bit, still hazy and alcohol drenched. Loki licks his lips. 

The Grandmaster has gone back to his room, undoubtedly, is probably dreaming up some new perversion right now. It’s the perfect time for a little adventure of Loki’s own. Loki finishes fastening his trousers and seals up his heavy leather shirt. It drags against his nipples, and Loki frowns a little. He shakes his head, though, trying to ignore the sensation. 

It takes only a second to trigger a cantrip he set up days ago, even with his hands trembling and his palms slicked with sweat. Loki casts his image out across the palace, finding the place where Thor is being held. He lets himself appear with a flicker behind Thor. 

Thor is on his knees, kneeling in front of a blank stretch of wall, his head bowed in prayer. As Loki makes his way gingerly forward, he hears Thor’s mumbled words. 

All these weeks, he’s been so worried about Thor that he’s hardly thought about Odin at all. The father that raised him, the father that twisted and warped him, creating out of him a monster and a son, a prince and a demon. The father that Loki desperately wanted to please, and the man he wanted to destroy. Now, with Thor’s prayer spilling out, Loki finds his heart clenching, pain flaring somewhere deep inside him. 

“…For those who have died the glorious death,” he finishes with Thor, adding his voice to Thor’s prayers. Perhaps that will not make any difference, perhaps any prayer is futile - Loki isn’t sure. What is the worth of a prayer when you yourself are thought to be a god? Yet there is no harm in it, and as Thor turns to him, Loki wonders if there is not some value beyond that of comfort. 

The warmth of that feeling fades quickly, though, as Thor staunchly refuses to answer any question Loki asks. It’s replaced with a burning, white fire, an ache deep in his spine that demands Loki either seize Thor around the shoulders and kiss him, or throw Thor to the wolves and be rid of this torment once and for all. 

He has searched for Thor, wished for him, pined for him, prayed with him. And yet, Thor cannot see what is right in front of his nose, cannot see that Loki is there for him. He cannot see past what Loki has done and look at who Loki is. Loki finds harsh words spilling from his lips, words that cannot possibly lead to a soft embrace or a true kiss. They trickle out, though, and after he’s vowed to bet against Thor, there’s nothing else he can say. He lets himself fade away from the room, and only wipes his eyes when he’s back inside his own body, and his tears are real, made of salt and water rather than light and seidr. 

***

If Loki had taken a bet on what would happen, Thor escaping from the Hulk’s room would have definitely made the list. In fact, it probably would have been the top. 

Getting blamed for it, however, wouldn’t have even found its way onto the long list. The Grandmaster is more observant than Loki has given him credit for, more observant than Thor himself. Forcing Loki to go after his brother or face destruction is a masterful move, practically guaranteed to bring Thor back to the Grandmaster. Either Loki will find him and bring him back, or someone will follow Loki and bring them both in. 

Loki growls as he shifts uncomfortably on his chair. The scrapper, the valkyrie, was no help at all, what with her one-upping and stupid promises to the Grandmaster. After that, how was he to expect that a trip down memory lane would send her spiraling out of control, deciding to finally do her duty and aid the royal family? 

The chains bite into Loki’s arms as he squirms again. When the valkyrie had started to wind them around him, he’d protested loudly, staring right at him. 

“Aren’t you supposed to serve us?” He’d asked. 

“Sure,” she’d waved a lazy hand. “Just what I’m doing right now.”

Loki had jerked against the chains, his shoulders tensing and his eyes flaring. 

“I don’t think chaining up one of the princes counts as serving the house of Odin,” he’d growled. 

“Course it does. I’m reuniting you with your brother, and helping heal the wounds you’ve left on each other. Definitely helping.”

Loki had groaned. Her smile had twinkled at him, her teeth gleaming white and her eyes flaring with laughter. 

“Even better, I’m taking you back to Asgard, where you can do your duty as a prince. Sounds pretty much like my job to me.”

Then she’d swaggered out of the room, giving Loki a cheery wave and slamming the door after herself. Loki had struggled for a few long moments at his chains, but then relaxed. The valkyrie would find Thor, which is, after all, what Loki wants. After that, he can work out whether or not to hand Thor back over to the Grandmaster. Right now, though, the valkyrie will do the dirty work. All Loki has to do is stay here and remain like this, bound, in case any of the Grandmaster’s minions pop in and want someone to blame for the champions still being missing. That way, at least Loki won’t be responsible. 

***

They’re just rising out of the hangar when Korg asks him where they’re going. Loki purses his lips, looking away from the ship’s controls and focusing on the wide expanse of the Sakaaran sky. 

Straight in front of them looms the maelstrom of the Devil’s Anus. Loki clenches his fists, turning away and looking for another wormhole, and other wormhole. His eyes are drawn back to the roaring, boiling inferno though, and he groans. 

“Through there,” he says, sighing. 

“Through there?” Korg echoes in confusion. “I thought your… not-brother? Well, I thought he was the one with the death wish.”

Loki slumps back into the chair. His body still aches from the shocks of the obedience disk, his muscles twitching and spasming suddenly sometimes, startling him with their erratic behavior. He tips his head back to look up at Korg. 

“Yeah, maybe. But look, Korg, right? Have you ever run away from something for so long that you forget why you were afraid of it in the first place?”

“Um… no, can’t say I have. Usually if I’m running it means a monster or something is chasing me.”

Loki shakes his head. 

“I didn’t mean it literally. You know, Thor told me I’m getting predictable?”

“Aren’t you? You do that ghosty thing a lot. That’s pretty predictable.”

Loki slumps further down. He takes the controls and starts steering the ship towards the anus, staring blankly out the viewscreen. 

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Probably not, but all my good ideas end up with Thor somewhere far away, and me playing the fool. All my good ideas are, apparently, predictable. So, for once, I’m going to do something that is a terrible, horrible, awful idea.”

Korg nods, though he shrugs at the same time. He sets one heavy stone hand down on Loki’s shoulder. It cups around Loki’s narrow bones, solid and nowhere near as comforting as Thor’s touch would have been. Loki leans into it though, if only just to feel the touch of someone who doesn’t want anything from him save leadership and direction. 

“Look man, it’s gonna be a bumpy enough ride through that thing. What are we gonna find once we get to the other side?” Korg asks. 

Loki stares at the red light pouring down on them. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, remembering Hela, then lets them open as the first wave of turbulence rumbles through the ship.

“Better sit down,” he tells Korg. 

“Answer the question,” Korg says, but finds a place on the bridge and straps himself in. 

“I don’t know the answer,” Loki admits. The ship is starting to shudder, and the controls are growing heavy in his hands. He forces his arms to lock, holds tighter to keep the ship on track. 

“Monsters? Giant green champions? Little creepy-crawly things? I don’t like those, even though Miek does.”

Loki groans, and he’s not sure if he’s responding to Korg, or if the sound is torn out of his lips by the pressure building in the ship. 

“Our sister,” he whispers, and then the world goes white. 

It resolves itself slowly again. Beside him, Korg is brushing a rock dust off himself, muttering in frustration. Loki finds his hands still curled, claw-like, around the controls, and eases his fingers open carefully. They ache, but he’s distracted from them almost immediately. In front of him, framed by the dark sky and hanging like a many colored jewel, is Asgard. 

He must make some sound, because Korg looks up and gasps. 

“Is that where we’re going?”

“Yes,” Loki says, and this time, his answer is full of certainty. “That’s where we’re going. There’s no chance my brother hasn’t made a mess of things. We’re going to go become heroes.”

“Heroes?” Korg shrugs. “I think I like the sound of that. Heroes. Definitely better than champions.”

***

Thor has deep shadows under his eyes. It’s the first thing Loki notices when he slips into Thor’s room on the ark that’s bearing them far away from the ruined wreck of their homeland. Even with the bloody, burned hole that gapes where Thor’s eye used to be, the dark circles stand out on Thor’s skin. Loki purses his lips. He wonders if Thor has slept since his fight with the Hulk back on Sakaar. Probably not, if the way Thor’s hands shake when he opens the bottle of liquor is any indication. Thor is staring at himself in the mirror, and Loki clears his throat. 

“It suits you,” he says, and Thor turns to him.

Loki’s stomach turns over as Thor’s remaining eye lights up. He shrugs in response to Thor’s pronouncement of his goodness, trying to stop himself from going across the room and tracing the places Thor sags and trembles.

He can’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing the stopper Thor throws at him, though. His fingers ache as they close about it, and he’s reminded of his own exhaustion. Loki shoves it away though, especially as Thor stands and makes his way across the room.

“You’re real?” Thor asks, his hand trembling as he raises it.

“Last time I checked,” Loki mutters. Thor’s hand lands heavily on his shoulder, cupping the back of his neck. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you, brother,” Thor whispers. 

Warmth floods though Loki, but on the heels of it comes a sharp spike of anger.

“You can’t believe it?” he snarls. “Of course you can’t. The Norns forbid that you ever thank me for anything, Thor. It doesn’t matter what I do, doesn’t matter that i had a plan to get us off that forsaken planet, doesn’t matter that I spent years searching for you and hoping you weren’t dead. How could that ever possibly merit your thanks?” The words spill from Loki’s lips before he can consider them, making their way out in a single rush of air. 

Thor turns away from him, his shoulders rounding. His whole frame slumps. 

“Loki...”

“You disappeared!” Loki says, almost yelling now, and he can stop his mouth as it continues to move. “You vanished from Midgard and I had no idea where you were. I couldn’t find you! You could have died out there, and I wouldn’t have seen! And then you did it again. Do you have any idea what it was like for me, those weeks on Sakaar without you?”

He’s panting by the time he finishes. Thor make a broken noise, but then straightens up.

“What do you mean, I disappeared?”

Loki realizes what he’s done in a flash. The stopper drops to the floor with a clang, but he hardly notices. Thor has turned back to him, his eyes shining wetly, and his mouth set in a thin line.

“What do you mean, Loki?” He hisses.

“Did you think I just ignored you once you’d gone off to Midgard?” he says, trying to keep his voice level. 

Thor stalks closer to him, and his hand lands back on Loki’s neck. This time, though, it is not an embrace. Thor’s fingers squeeze against his throat, and he growls as he leans in towards Loki. 

“You know, brother, I had the strangest dreams when I was on Midgard,” he snarls. 

“And this should matter to me?” Loki tries for flippant, but his voice breaks in the middle of the question. 

“Shouldn’t it?” Thor asks. “They were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. You know, brother, I half thought I was being haunted by your shade.”

“My shade?”

“I would have thought you a draugr, come to haunt my dreams, save that you smelled not of decay, but of pleasure, and that the only curse that remained after you left was the curse of memory.” 

Loki shifts in Thor’s grip, trying not to look away. 

“I smelled of pleasure?” he asks. “What strange dreams you must have had, Thor.”

“Yes,” Thor replies, and he’s so close that there’s barely an inch of space between them. “It was as though you came to torture me with closeness that we never shared in life. But you know all this already, don’t you, Loki?”

“How could I possibly know of your dreams, Thor?” Loki scoffs. 

“I am not the fool I once was, Loki. I am not some plaything that you can use and toss aside, some piece in the twisted games you’re always playing.”

“I never thought to throw you aside,” Loki stares straight at Thor now. 

“You did not? Then why come to me at all? Why slip into my bed and make me believe it all a dream? Why lie to me at all, Loki?” Thor’s voice breaks on the last words, goes thick and heavy, and a single tear slides down his cheek. Loki has to look away at last, now that the dice have fallen on the table and the score has been revealed. 

“I…” he mumbles. The words won’t come, though, and he swallows thickly. 

“Why!?” Thor asks again, his voice rising on the word. 

“I missed you,” Loki whispers, almost too quietly to hear. 

At that, Thor steps away, ripping his hand from Loki’s neck, stumbling across the room. 

***

After the coronation, Thor refuses to drink with Valkyrie and Hulk. Instead, he takes Loki’s wrist and pulls him along the ships corridors, leading him toward the captain’s cabin. Loki follows, trying not to notice the stares as they make their way through the crowded halls. 

Once they get back to Thor’s room, Thor pulls him inside, slamming the door after him. He lets go of Loki, making his way straight across the room to pour two glasses of some sort of dark purple liquor. One of the glasses is cold when he presses it into Loki’s hand, and a spark jumps from Thor’s fingers to his own. Loki shivers. 

“Why are we here?” he asks, looking down into the glass. 

Thor throws himself into one of the chairs that huddle near the shelf of bottles. He spreads his legs wide, his body seeming to fill more space than Loki would have thought possible. 

“You didn’t leave,” Thor says. “I thought you would, after we talked.”

“Why?” Loki asks again. 

“Why?” Thor echoes, laughing. “When haven’t you left me lately?”

“I didn’t leave you on Sakaar,” Loki reminds him. “ _You left me._ ”

“I knew you’d follow,” Thor says. 

“Then why think I wouldn’t stay now?” Loki makes his way to the chair across from Thor. He settles into it carefully, finally trying a sip of the strangely sweet liquid in his glass. 

“You always left, on Midgard.”

“On Midgard?” Loki asks, astonished. 

“I’d wake up, and you’d fade away, slipping out of my fingers. Even when… even when I tried to keep you there, you always vanished.” Thor stares down at the table, his hand clenched tight around his glass. 

“I thought you’d prefer that,” Loki answers. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Loki protests. He takes another swallow, feeling his throat bob. When he glances up, Thor is no longer staring down. Instead, his eyes are fixed on Loki’s throat, on where Loki’s lips and tongue work. “I thought you wanted your friends, and your mortal, and your life there. You told me so, remember? You told me that I would help you, and then I would go back to a cell, rotting away on Asgard.”

“How could you believe that?” Thor asks, his voice soft. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Loki throws back. “You’re Thor. You’re not known for lying.”

“Maybe not, but I learned from the best,” Thor says, and he smiles, his face going bright and soft. He reaches out across the table, grabbing Loki’s free hand with his larger one. “I missed you,” he whispers. 

“I miss being able to sleep, but what can you do?” Loki scoffs, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. 

“Being able to sleep?” Thor raises an eyebrow. 

“I grew used… I became…” Loki stutters. He can’t believe Thor has him at a loss for words again. It doesn’t matter, though, because Thor’s smile grows even wider. 

“I did too.”

For a moment, they sit facing each other. Thor stares into Loki’s eyes, as though searching for something. Whatever it is, he finds it after a few seconds. He gives a tiny nod and stands up. 

“You know,” he says, towering over Loki, “I wondered if your lips would feel different if I was awake.”

The statement hangs in the air between them, as bold as any Thor has ever made. It feels as deadly as a swing of a hammer, as vicious as Thor’s fists in the middle of a battle. It is as soft as the scales of a viper. Loki stands as well, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. 

“Would you like to find out?” he asks. 

Thor nods slowly, reaching out to take hold of Loki’s neck. At first, it feels like every other time they have stood across from each other like this, closer than brothers should be, but breaking no taboos. Then Thor closes the distance between them, and his mouth hovers in front of Loki’s. Loki tenses his stomach, and leans in. 

Thor’s lips are as soft as he remembers when they press against his. Loki tastes them carefully, drawing one between his own and sucking lightly. Thor’s hand tenses on the back of his neck. They touch nowhere else, but heat flares through Loki, melting the secret places inside him that he freezes away from the world. 

“It feels like that,” he whispers, pulling away just far enough that he can speak. 

“I don’t think I know enough about it yet,” Thor responds. “You’ll have to show me again.”

This time, Loki kisses him harder, sealing their mouths together and letting his tongue slip out to trace across Thor’s bottom lip. Thor opens up for him right away, and Loki slides inside him. Thor groans. Their tongues slip against one another, and their teeth click as the kiss gets harder. All of an instant, Loki is pressed against Thor, their bodies flush together and one of Thor’s arms around his waist. 

Thor’s fingers dig into Loki’s side and the hand around his neck grows tighter. Loki moans, the sound muffled by Thor’s mouth, but loud enough that his cheeks flush from it. Thor slips his hand underneath Loki’s tunic, and his fingers splay back across Loki’s spine. 

“Is it better like this?” he asks, pulling away from Loki to look him in the eye. 

“Better than what?” Loki pants. 

“Better than when I thought it was a dream?”

Laughter bubbles up and spills from Loki’s lips like water from dam that has just burst. He slumps against Thor, his chest heaving and his whole body shaking from the force of his laughter. Thor gives a little frustrated grunt. 

“I was serious, Loki,” he says. 

“Of- of course it’s better, Thor,” Loki manages to say. He kisses Thor’s jaw with lips that tremble from the little laughs that still escape them. “Of course it is.”

“Would… would you like to see if anything else is better?” Thor asks, more hesitant than he has been the entire day. 

“Are you propositioning me, brother?” Loki asks, still laughing. He catches sight of Thor’s face, though, and the mirth dies on his lips. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Loki…” Thor starts. He swallows heavily. “Loki, you’re all I have.”

“You have a kingdom, Thor,” Loki starts, but Thor squeezes his waist hard, cutting him off. 

“I don’t mean it like that. On Midgard, I realized… I realized a lot of things. That I wanted this, first of all. But more than that. Natasha asked me something. She asked me how I could feel so little remorse after a battle. I couldn’t understand the question at first. Now I know. You and I, we’re not like them, the Midgarders or the Kree or the Ljosalfar. They live and die and pass beyond this universe, while we remain for years beyond count. We are different. And being so different, we look at the worlds differently. You… you’re the only one who looks at the universe like me.”

“You have a ship full of Aesir, Thor. They are all like us,” Loki mutters. He looks into Thor’s eyes, though, wondering what he’ll find. There, he sees just the same fire and lighting he found in the painting that hung in Thor’s quarters on Midgard. His breath catches in his throat. 

“No one is like us. No one is like you, Loki. I don’t… I don’t want anything but you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Thor. Not about this,” Loki says. 

“I’m not lying,” Thor tells him, and his lips are back on Loki’s in an instant. He kisses Loki hard, then tugs him towards the bed. “Let me show you that I’m not. Let me show you that I want you, please.”

“Because I’m the only thing you have left?” Loki groans as Thor pushes him down on the mattress. 

“Because you’re the only thing I’ve ever really had. The only thing I’ve ever really wanted.”

Loki laughs, and this time it’s the laughter of relief, the laughter of long held tension spilling from his lips. Thor smiles. 

“Is that a yes?” he asks Loki.

“Yes,” Loki whispers, watching as Thor tugs off his armor. “Yes, indeed.”

Thor stands between Loki’s spread legs, naked from the waist up. There are bruises and scratches across his chest, marks of battle. His body is hard with corded muscle, seeming almost bigger than when Loki saw it last. 

“Show yourself to me, brother?” Thor asks. 

With a wave of his hand, Loki is naked save for a pair of sleep shorts. Another wave of his hand leaves Thor the same way. Thor growls again. His hands go to Loki’s hips, and he throws Loki farther up the bed, climbing to kneel between Loki’s legs. 

“What do you want?” he asks. Loki’s breath hitches in his throat. This might be the first time Thor has asked him that. He lets the sound of the question sink into his skin, lets it fill him up. 

“I want you inside me, Thor. I want you to fuck me so deeply that I can feel it for days, so that when I walk about, all I can think about is you and your cock. I want the sun and the stars and the moon. I want a kingdom. I want you not to leave me again. I want you to want me,” Loki says, his whole body shaking with the force of the words. 

Thor leans down, his teeth sinking into Loki’s collarbone and leaving a bloody mark when he pulls away. 

“Is that all?”

“No. I want your hands all over my body. I want bruises. I want you to dream of fucking me every night, I want you to need me, to be addicted to my touch. I want you to scream for me, Thor.” 

Thor’s hips rock down against his, and Loki notices they’re both hard. It is an absent sort of awareness, but then Thor kisses him again, his hand finding their cocks. 

“A short list of demands,” Thor mutters as he starts to stroke them. “It isn’t hard to know where to start.”

“And where is that?” Loki asks. 

In answer, Thor’s hand sneaks between his legs. His fingers trace over Loki’s hole, caressing it. Loki gasps. It’s been a week since he did this last, and Thor’s fingers are much wider than the Grandmaster’s. He triggers a cantrip, and his hole goes slick, his body relaxing. Thor laughs roughly. 

“Clever,” he murmurs. Loki’s cheeks flush, and he spreads his legs wider. Thor traces his hole again, and Loki can feel himself fluttering against Thor’s fingertip. 

“Come on,” Loki demands. 

Thor slides the tip of one finger inside him, gasping. 

“You’re so hot.”

“Of course,” Loki moans. Thor is rubbing behind his balls with his other fingers, the one inside Loki sliding steadily deeper. 

“No, Loki, I mean, you’re not cold. How can that be?”

“You thought this face was just a mask?” Loki groans as Thor drives deep inside him. “When I wear this shape, I am as much one of the Aesir as you or Heimdall… or almost as much.” 

Thor smiles, kissing Loki’s throat. 

“You’re more,” he whispers. 

Before Loki can say anything, Thor presses another finger inside him roughly. For a moment, Loki can’t breathe. It’s almost too much. Then his body opens up to Thor. Thor groans, spreading his fingers a little apart, and Loki finds himself rocking downwards, trying to get Thor to press deep enough inside him to catch the sweet spot. Thor seems to understand, because he reaches deeper, searching. 

Sparks flare in front of Loki’s eyes as Thor finally finds the place. Thor smiles, his teeth blindingly white, so bright that Loki wants to close his eyes. He can’t though, not with Thor fucking him with his fingers, not with Thor rubbing tortuously at the spot that brings tears of pleasure springing up. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Thor moans. 

“Of course,” Loki snaps back, pressing down to get more of Thor’s hand inside him. Thor obliges with another finger, but Loki still doesn’t feel full enough. 

“Did you think of this, lying next to me all those days?”

“I thought of so much, Thor. You have no idea what I want you to do to me.” Loki tips his head back, taking a long, steadying breath. “Right now, though, I need your cock in me. Fill me up, brother. Make me scream your name.”

Thor gasps, pulling his fingers from Loki’s ass a little too roughly. He makes up for it, though, by kissing Loki again, soft and sweet. Loki whispers magic against his lips, and Thor’s cock goes slick where it rests against Loki’s belly. Thor moans appreciatively, then presses himself off the bed a little. 

“Like this?” he asks.

Loki nods, “next time I want you to fuck me like a dog, pound me into the mattress. This time, though, I need to see you, Thor.” 

Thor nods. Then he pushes Loki’s thighs farther apart. The first press of his cock against Loki’s hole has Loki’s body trembling, his legs shaking and his stomach muscles twitching. 

“Don’t be gentle, Thor. I won’t break,” he says. 

“I know you won’t,” Thor tells him, and takes him in one stroke. 

Loki’s eyes roll back as he arches off the bed. Thor is so big, filling him up and driving deep inside him. He feels as though he’s going to burst apart, as though he’s going to shatter from pleasure and pain too much for his body to handle. Above him, Thor trembles, his huge arms shaking as he holds himself up. Loki slumps back to the bed, his ass twitching around Thor’s cock. He swallows air in huge gasps, his eyes hardly seeing Thor as Thor stares sightlessly back. 

It takes long moments before Thor finally starts to move. At first he slides out just the slightest bit, and Loki whimpers as Thor drives back inside him. Then, though, Loki loosens a little, and Thor pulls out further. With each stroke, Thor presses harder back inside Loki, until he’s pounding into him, his hips snapping forward and his chest heaving. 

Loki writhes beneath him. Thor is pounding at his prostate now, pushing into him with singleminded determination. Each time his cock drags against that spot, sparks run down Loki’s spine and his whole body trembles. He feels as though he were caught at the point of coming, so close that his body shakes with pleasure, and so far that he can’t get himself over the edge. Thor’s abs drag over his cock as Thor works their hips together, and it just adds to Loki’s desperation. 

His hands scrabble at Thor’s back, clawing at his skin and making new scratches among the ones left over from battle. Thor growls, his hips speeding up until Loki can hardly match them with little jerks of his own. Thor doesn’t seem to care, though. He fucks into Loki hard, panting at Loki’s neck. 

“Come on,” Loki moans. “Come on, Thor. I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” Thor gasps. “Yeah? Tell me what you need, beautiful.”

“Touch my cock,” Loki manages to say. “Thor, brother, touch me.”

Thor’s hand finds Loki’s cock as he lowers himself to one elbow. He hovers above Loki as he continues to work their hips together. A groan spills from Loki’s lips, and then his whole body seizes up. His stomach tenses and he throws his head back. 

“Come for me, love,” Thor whispers, and Loki loses the little control he has left. He spills over Thor’s fingers, biting his lip so hard that he draws his own blood. Even so, he can’t hold back the moan that slips out, Thor’s name leaving his lips on a long, drawn out sigh. 

Dimly, he realizes that Thor is coming too, spilling deep inside him. Loki can hardly pay attention to that, not with the lights dancing in front of his eye, and the way his heart is pounding in his chest. He notices, though, when Thor slumps down across him, pressing wet kisses to Loki’s neck. 

“I missed this,” he whispers. 

“I don’t remember ever having done _this_ before, Thor,” Loki replies once he can speak. Thor’s soft cock slips slowly out of him, and he groans. Thor whimpers too, rolling to the side and pulling Loki against his chest. 

“I missed you,” he says. Loki nuzzles against Thor’s sweat-slick chest, hiding his face.

“As did I,” he admits. He missed Thor more deeply than he has ever felt anything before, even hate. And now that he has Thor back, he’s never letting him go. Not for anything. The whole universe can try to rip them apart, and Loki will not let them. There is not a single chance. His thoughts go to the tesseract, safely hidden away where only he can find it. 

He will use any means necessary to keep this. No matter who burns and how many die. Thor is his now, and that is all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +I'm actually strangely happy with how this came out, despite the fact that I swore to myself two months ago that I would never write another fic that was as strictly canon compliant as this chapter was. Ah, well, what can you do?
> 
> +Come find me on tumblr at [saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/)


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